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diff --git a/26606.txt b/26606.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..efaf6a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/26606.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4246 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Uncanny Tales + +Author: Various + +Editor: C. Arthur Pearson + +Release Date: September 13, 2008 [EBook #26606] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + UNCANNY TALES + + + LONDON + C. ARTHUR PEARSON, LIMITED + HENRIETTA STREET, W.C. + 1916 + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Dialect + spellings have been retained. The oe ligature has been transcribed + as [oe]. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + I. THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY 7 + + II. THE ARMLESS MAN 19 + + III. THE TOMTOM CLUE 33 + + IV. THE CASE OF SIR ALISTER MOERAN 43 + + V. THE KISS 63 + + VI. THE GOTH 73 + + VII. THE LAST ASCENT 88 + + VIII. THE TERROR BY NIGHT 97 + + IX. THE TRAGEDY AT THE "LOUP NOIR" 113 + + + + +UNCANNY STORIES + + + + +I + +THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY + + +Professor William James Maynard was in a singularly happy and contented +mood as he strolled down the High Street after a long and satisfactory +interview with the solicitor to his late cousin, whose sole heir he was. + +It was exactly a month by the calendar since he had murdered this +cousin, and everything had gone most satisfactorily since. The fortune +was proving quite as large as he had expected, and not even an inquest +had been held upon the dead man. The coroner had decided that it was not +necessary, and the Professor had agreed with him. + +At the funeral the Professor had been the principal mourner, and the +local paper had commented sympathetically on his evident emotion. This +had been quite genuine, for the Professor had been fond of his relative, +who had always been very good to him. But still, when an old man remains +obstinately healthy, when his doctor can say with confidence that he is +good for another twenty years at least, and when he stands between you +and a large fortune which you need, and of which you can make much +better use in the cause of science and the pursuit of knowledge, what +alternative is there? It becomes necessary to take steps. Therefore, the +Professor had taken steps. + +Looking back to-day on that day a month ago, and the critical preceding +week, the Professor felt that the steps he had taken had been as +judicious as successful. He had set himself to solve a problem in higher +mathematics. He had found it easier to solve than many he was obliged to +grapple with in the course of his studies. + +A policeman saluted as the Professor passed, and he acknowledged it with +the charming old world courtesy that made him so popular a figure in the +town. Across the way was the doctor who had certified the cause of +death. The Professor, passing benevolently on, was glad he had now +enough money to carry out his projects. He would be able to publish at +once his great work on "The Secondary Variation of the Differential +Calculus," that hitherto had languished in manuscript. It would make a +sensation, he thought; there was more than one generally accepted theory +he had challenged or contradicted in it. And he would put in hand at +once his great, his long projected work, "A History of the Higher +Mathematics." It would take twenty years to complete, it would cost +twenty thousand pounds or more, and it would breathe into mathematics +the new, vivid life that Bergson's works have breathed into +metaphysics. + +The Professor thought very kindly of the dead cousin, whose money would +provide for this great work. He wished greatly the dead man could know +to what high use his fortune was designed. + +Coming towards him he saw the wife of the vicar of his parish. The +Professor was a regular church-goer. The vicar's wife saw him, too, and +beamed. She and her husband were more than a little proud of having so +well known a man in their congregation. She held out her hand and the +Professor was about to take it when she drew it back with a startled +movement. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she exclaimed, distressed, as she saw him raise +his eyebrows. "There is blood on it." + +Her eyes were fixed on his right hand, which he was still holding out. +In fact, on the palm a small drop of blood showed distinctly against the +firm, pink flesh. Surprised, the Professor took out his handkerchief and +wiped it away. He noticed that the vicar's wife was wearing white kid +gloves. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she said again. "It--it startled me somehow. I +thought you must have cut yourself. I hope it's not much?" + +"Some scratch, I suppose," he said. "It's nothing." + +The vicar's wife, still slightly discomposed, launched out into some +parochial matter she had wished to mention to him. They chatted a few +moments and then parted. The Professor took an opportunity to look at +his hand. He could detect no sign of any cut or abrasion, the skin +seemed whole everywhere. He looked at his handkerchief. There was still +visible on it the stain where he had wiped his hand, and this stain +seemed certainly blood. + +"Odd!" he muttered as he put the handkerchief back in his pocket. "Very +odd!" + +His thoughts turned again to his projected "A History of the Higher +Mathematics," and he forgot all about the incident till, as it happened +that day month, the first of the month by the calendar, when he was +sitting in his study with an eminent colleague to whom he was explaining +his great scheme. + +"If you are able to carry it out," the colleague said slowly, "your book +will mark an epoch in human thought. But the cost will be tremendous." + +"I estimate it at twenty thousand pounds," answered the Professor +calmly. "I am fully prepared to spend twice as much. You know I have +recently inherited forty thousand pounds from a relative?" + +The eminent colleague nodded and looked very impressed. + +"It is magnificent," he said warmly, "magnificent." He added: "You've +cut yourself, do you know?" + +"Cut myself?" the Professor echoed, surprised. + +"Yes," answered the eminent colleague, "there is blood upon your +hand--your right hand." + +In fact a spot of blood, slightly larger than that which had appeared +before, showed plainly upon the Professor's right hand. He wiped it away +with his handkerchief, and went on talking eagerly, for he was deeply +interested. He did not think of the matter again till just as he was +getting into bed, when he noticed a red stain upon his handkerchief. He +frowned and examined his hand carefully. There was no sign of any wound +or cut from which the blood could have come, and he frowned again. + +"Very odd!" he muttered. + +A calendar hanging on the wall reminded him that it was the first of the +month. + +The days passed, the incident faded from his memory, and four weeks +later he came down one morning to breakfast in an unusually good temper. +There was a certain theory he had worked on the night before he meant to +write to a friend about. It seemed to him his demonstration had been +really brilliant, and then, also, he was already planning out with great +success the details of the scheme for his great work. + +He was making an excellent breakfast, for his appetite was always good, +and, needing some more cream, he rang the bell. The maid appeared, he +showed her the empty jug, and as she took it she dropped it with a +sudden cry, smashing it to pieces on the floor. Very pale, she stammered +out: + +"Beg pardon, sir, your hand--there is blood upon your hand." + +In fact, on the Professor's right hand there showed a drop of blood, +perceptibly larger this time than before. The Professor stared at it +stupidly. He was sure it had not been there a moment before, and he +noticed by the heading of the newspaper at the side of his plate that +this was the first of the month. + +With a hasty movement of his napkin he wiped the drop of blood away. The +maid, still apologising, began to pick up the pieces of the jug she had +broken; but the Professor had no further appetite for his breakfast. He +silenced her with a gesture, and, leaving a piece of toast half-eaten on +his plate, he got up and went into his study. + +All this was trivial, absurd even. Yet somehow it disturbed him. He got +out a magnifying glass and examined his hand under it. There was nothing +to account for the presence of the drop of blood he and the maid had +seen. It occurred to him that he might have cut himself in shaving; but +when he looked in the mirror he could find no trace of even the +slightest wound. + +He decided that, though he had not been aware of it, his nerves must be +a little out of order. That was disconcerting. He had not taken his +nerves into consideration for the simple reason that he had never known +that he possessed any. He made up his mind to treat himself to a holiday +in Switzerland. One or two difficult ascents might brace him up a bit. + +Three days later he was in Switzerland, and a few days later again he +was on the summit of a minor but still difficult peak. It had been an +exhilarating climb, and he had enjoyed it. He said something laughingly +to the head guide to the effect that climbing was good sport and a fine +test for the nerves. The head guide agreed, and added politely that if +the nerves of monsieur the Professor had shown signs of failing on the +lower glacier, for example, they might all have been in difficulties. +The Professor thrilled with pleasure at the head guide's implied praise. +He was glad to know on such good authority that his nerves were all +right, and the incidents that had driven him there began to fade in his +memory. + +Nevertheless, he found himself watching the calendar with a certain +interest, and when he woke on the morning of the first day of the next +month he glanced quickly at his right hand. There was nothing there. + +He dressed and spent, as he had planned, a quiet day, busy with his +correspondence. His spirits rose as the day passed. He was still +watchful, but more confident; and, after dinner, though he had meant to +go straight to his room, he agreed to join in a suggested game of +bridge. They were cutting for partners when one of the ladies who was to +take part in the game dropped with a little cry the card she had just +lifted. + +"Oh, there is blood upon your hand," she cried, "on your right hand, +Professor!" + +Upon the Professor's right hand there showed now a drop of blood, larger +still then those other three had been. Yet the very moment before it had +not been there. The Professor put down his cards without a word, and +left the room, going straight upstairs. + +The drop of blood was still standing on his hand. He soaked it up +carefully with some cotton-wool he had, and was not surprised to find +beneath no sign or trace of any cut or wound. The cotton-wool he made up +carefully into a parcel and addressed it to an analytical chemist he +knew, inclosing with it a short note. + +He rang the bell, sent the parcel to the post, and then he got out pen +and paper and set himself to solve this problem, as in his life he had +solved so many others. + +Only this time it seemed somehow as though the data were insufficient. + +Idly his pen traced upon the paper in front of him a large _X_, the sign +of the unknown quantity. + +But how, in this case, to find out what was the unknown quantity? His +hand, his firm and steady hand, shook so that he could no longer hold +his pen. He rang the bell again and ordered a stiff whisky-and-soda. He +was a man of almost ascetic habits, but to-night he felt that he needed +some stimulant. + +Neither did he sleep very well. + +The next day he returned to England. Almost at once he went to see his +friend, the analytical chemist, to whom he had sent the parcel from +Switzerland. + +"Mammalian blood," pronounced the chemist, "probably human--rather a +curious thing about it, too." + +"What's that?" asked the Professor. + +"Why," his friend answered, "I was able to identify the distinctive +bacillus----" He named the rare bacillus of an unusual and obscure +disease. And this disease was that from which the Professor's cousin had +died. + +The professor was a man interested in all phenomena. In other +circumstances he would have observed keenly that which now occurred, +when the hair of his head underwent a curious involuntary stiffening and +bristling process that in popular but sufficiently accurate terms, might +be described as "standing on end." But at the moment he was in no state +for scientific observations. + +He got out of the house somehow. He said he did not feel well, and his +friend, the chemist, agreed that his holiday in Switzerland did not seem +to have done him much good. + +The Professor went straight home and shut himself up in his study. It +was a fine room, ranged all round with books. On the shelves nearest to +his hand stood volumes on mathematics, the theory of mathematics, the +study of mathematics, pure mathematics, applied mathematics. But there +was not any one of these books that told him anything about such a thing +as this. Though, it is true, there were many references in them, here +and there, to _X_, the unknown quantity. + +The Professor took his pen and wrote a large _X_ upon the sheet of paper +in front of him. + +"An unknown quantity!" he muttered. "An unknown--quantity!" + +The days passed peacefully. Nothing was out of the ordinary except that +the Professor developed an odd trick of continually glancing at his +right hand. He washed it a good deal, too. But the first of the month +was not yet. + +On the last day of the month he told his housekeeper that he was feeling +a little unwell. She was not surprised, for she had thought him looking +ill for some time past. He told her he would probably spend the next day +in bed for a thorough rest, and she agreed that that would be a very +good idea. When he was in his own room and had undressed, he bandaged +his right hand with care, tying it up carefully and thoroughly with +three or four of his large linen handkerchiefs. + +"Whatever comes, shall now show," he said to himself. + +He stayed in bed accordingly the next day. His housekeeper was a little +uneasy about him. He ate nothing and his eyes were strangely bright and +feverish. She overheard him once muttering something to himself about +"the unknown quantity," and that made her think that he had been working +too hard. + +She decided he must see the doctor. The Professor refused peremptorily. +He declared he would be quite well again in the morning. The +housekeeper, an old servant, agreed, but sent for the doctor all the +same; and when he had come the Professor felt he could not refuse to see +him without appearing peculiar. And he did not wish to appear peculiar. +So he saw the doctor, but declared there was nothing much the matter, he +merely felt a little unwell and out of sorts and tired. + +"You have hurt your hand?" the doctor asked, noticing how it was +bandaged. + +"I cut it slightly--a trifle," the Professor answered. + +"Yes," the doctor answered, "I see there is blood on it." + +"What?" the Professor stammered. + +"There is blood upon your hand," the doctor repeated. + +The Professor looked. In fact, a deep, wide stain showed crimson upon +the bandages in which he had swathed his hand. Yet he knew that the +moment before the linen had been fair and white and clean. + +"It is nothing," he said quickly, hiding his hand beneath the bed +clothes. + +The doctor, a little puzzled, took his leave, but had not gone ten +yards when the housekeeper flew screaming after him. It seemed she had +heard a fall, and when she had gone into the Professor's bedroom she had +found him lying there dead upon the hearthrug. There was a razor in his +hand, and there was a ghastly gash across his throat. + +The doctor went back at a run, but there was nothing he or any man could +do. One thing he noticed, with curiosity, was that the bandage had been +torn away from the dead man's hand and that oddly enough there seemed to +be on the hand no sign of any cut or wound. There was a large solitary +drop of blood on the palm, at the root of the thumb; but, of course, +that was no great wonder, for the wound the dead man had dealt himself +had bled freely. + +Apparently death had not been quite instantaneous, for with a last +effort the Professor seemed to have traced an _X_ upon the floor in his +own blood with his forefinger. The doctor mentioned this at the +inquest--the coroner had decided at once that in this case an inquest +was certainly necessary--and he suggested that it showed the Professor +had worked too hard and was suffering from overwork which had disturbed +his mental balance. + +The coroner took the same view, and in his short address to the jury +adduced the incident as proof of a passing mental disturbance. + +"Very probably," said the coroner, "there was some problem that had +worried him, and that he was still endeavouring to work out. As you are +aware, gentlemen, the sign _X_ is used to symbolise the unknown +quantity." + +An appropriate verdict was accordingly returned, and the Professor was +duly interred in the same family vault as that in which so short a time +previously his cousin had been laid to rest. + + + + +II + +THE ARMLESS MAN + + +I first met Bob Masters in the hotel at a place called Fourteen Streams, +not very far from Kimberley. + +I had for some months been trying to find gold or diamonds by digging +holes in the veldt. But since this has little or nothing to do with the +story, I pass by my mining adventures and come back to the hotel. I came +to it very readily that afternoon, for I was very thirsty. + +A tall man standing at the bar turned his head as I entered and said +"Good-day" to me. I returned the compliment, but took no particular +notice of him at first. + +Suddenly I heard the man say to the barman: + +"I'm ready for another drink." + +That surprised me, because his glass was still three-quarters full. But +I was still more startled by the action of the barman who lifted up the +glass and held it whilst the man drank. + +Then I saw the reason. The man had no arms. + +You know the easy way in which Englishmen chum together anywhere out of +England, whilst in their native country nothing save a formal +introduction will make them acquainted? I made some remark to Masters +which led to another from him, and in five minutes' time we were +chatting on all sorts of topics. + +I learnt that Masters, bound for England, had come in to Fourteen +Streams to catch the train from Kimberley, and, having a few hours to +wait, had strolled up to the collection of tin huts calling itself a +town. + +I was going down to Kimberley too, so of course we went together, and +were quite old friends by the time we reached that city. + +We had a wash and something to eat, and then we walked round to the +post-office. I used to have my letters addressed there, _poste +restante_, and call in for them when I happened to be in Kimberley. + +I found several letters, one of which altered the whole course of my +life. This was from Messrs. Harvey, Filson, and Harvey, solicitors, +Lincoln's Inn Fields. It informed me that the sudden death of my cousin +had so affected my uncle's health that he had followed his only son +within the month. The senior branch of the family being thus extinct the +whole of the entailed estate had devolved on me. + +The first thing I did was to send off two cablegrams to say that I was +coming home by the first available boat, one to the solicitors, the +other to Nancy Milward. + +Masters and I arranged to come home together and eventually reached Cape +Town. There we had considerable trouble at the shipping office. It was +just about the time of year when people who live in Africa to make +money, come over to England to spend it, and in consequence the boats +were very crowded. Masters demanded a cabin to himself, a luxury which +was not to be had, though there was one that he and I could share. He +made a tremendous fuss about doing this, and I thought it very strange, +because I had assisted him in many ways which his mutilation rendered +necessary. However, he had to give way in the end, and we embarked on +the Castle liner. + +On the voyage he told me how he had lost his arms. It seemed that he had +been sent up country on some Government job or other, and had had the +ill-fortune to be captured by the natives. They treated him quite well +at first, but gave him to understand that he must not try to escape. I +suppose that to most men such a warning would be a direct incitement to +make the attempt. Masters made it and failed. They cut off his right arm +as a punishment. He waited until the wound was healed and tried again. +Again he failed. This time they cut off his other arm. + +"Good Lord," I cried. "What devils!" + +"Weren't they!" he said. "And yet, you know, they were quite +good-tempered chaps when you didn't cross them. I wasn't going to be +beaten by a lot of naked niggers though, and I made a third attempt. + +"I succeeded all right that time, though, of course, it was much more +difficult. I really don't know at all how I managed to worry through. +You see, I could only eat plants and leaves and such fruit as I came +across; but I'd learnt as much as I could of the local botany in the +intervals." + +"Was it worth while?" I asked. "I think the first failure and its result +would have satisfied me." + +"Yes," he said slowly, "it was worth while. You see, my wife was waiting +for me at home, and I wanted to see her again very badly--you don't +know how badly." + +"I think I can imagine," I said. "Because there is a girl waiting for me +too at home." + +"I saw her before she died," he continued. + +"Died?" I said. + +"Yes," he answered. "She was dying when I reached home at last, but I +was with her at the end. That was something, wasn't it?" + +I do hate people to tell me this sort of thing. Not because I do not +feel sorry for them; on the contrary, I feel so sorry that I absolutely +fail to find words to express my sympathy. I tried, however, to show it +in other ways, by the attentions I paid him and by anticipating his +every wish. + +Yet there were many things that were astonishing about his actions, +things that I wonder now I did not realise must have been impossible for +him to do for himself, and that yet were done. But he was so +surprisingly dexterous with his lips, and feet too, when he was in his +cabin that I suppose I put them down to that. + +I remember waking up one night and looking out of my bunk to see him +standing on the floor. The cabin was only faintly lit by a moonbeam +which found its way through the porthole. I could not see clearly, but I +fancied that he walked to the door and opened it, and closed it behind +him. He did it all very quickly, as quickly as I could have done it. As +I say, I was very sleepy, but the sight of the door opening and shutting +like that woke me thoroughly. Sitting up I shouted at him. + +He heard me and opened the door again, easily, too, much more easily +than he seemed to be able to shut it when he saw me looking at him. + +"Hullo! Awake, old chap?" he said. "What is it?" + +"Er--nothing," I said. "Or rather I suppose I was only half awake; but +you seemed to open that door so easily that it quite startled me." + +"One does not always like to let others see the shifts to which one has +to resort," was all the answer he gave me. + +But I worried over it. The thing bothered me, because he had made no +attempt to explain. + +That was not the only thing I noticed. + +Two or three days later we were sitting together on deck. I had offered +to read to him. I noticed that he got up out of his chair. Suddenly I +saw the chair move. It gave me a great shock, for the chair twisted +apparently of its own volition, so that when he sat down again the +sunlight was at his back and not in his eyes, as I knew it had been +previously. But I reasoned with myself and managed to satisfy myself +that he must have turned the chair round with his foot. It was just +possible that he could have done so, for it had one of those light +wicker-work seats. + +We had a lovely voyage for three-quarters of the way, and the sea was as +calm as any duck-pond. But that was all altered when we passed Cape +Finisterre. I have done a lot of knocking about on the ocean one way and +another, but I never saw the Bay of Biscay deserve its reputation +better. + +I'd much rather see what is going on than be cooped up below, and after +lunch I told Bob I was going up on deck. + +"I'll only stay there for a bit," I said. "You make yourself comfortable +down here." + +I filled his pipe, put it in his mouth, and gave him a match; then I +left him. + +I made my way up and down the deck for a time, clutching hold of +everything handy, and rather enjoyed it, though the waves drenched me to +the skin. + +Presently I saw Masters come out of the companion-way and make his way +very skilfully towards me. Of course it was fearfully dangerous for him. + +I staggered towards him, and, putting my lips to his ear, shouted to him +to go below at once. + +"Oh, I shall be all right!" he said, and laughed. + +"You'll be drowned--drowned," I screamed. "There was a wave just now +that--well, if I hadn't been able to cling on with both hands like grim +death, I should have gone overboard. Go below." + +He laughed again and shook his head. + +And then what I dreaded happened. A vast mountain of green water lifted +up its bulk and fell upon us in a ravening cataract. I clutched at +Masters, but trying to save him and myself handicapped me badly. The +strength of that mass of water was terrible. It seemed to snatch at +everything with giant hands, and drag all with it. It tossed a hen-coop +high, and carried it through the rails. + +I felt the grip of my right hand loosen, and the next instant was +carried, still clutching Masters with my left, towards that gap in the +bulwark. + +I managed to seize the end of the broken rail. It held us for a moment, +then gave, and for a moment I hung sheer over the vessel's side. + +In that instant I felt fingers tighten on my arm, tighten till they bit +into the flesh, and I was pulled back into safety. + +Together we staggered back, and got below somehow. I was trembling like +a leaf, and the sweat dripped from me. I almost screamed aloud. + +It was not that I was frightened of death. I've seen too much of that in +many parts of the earth to dread it greatly. It was the thought of those +fingers tightening on me where no fingers were. + +Masters did not speak a word, nor did I, until we found ourselves in the +cabin. + +I tore the wet clothes off me and turned my arm to the mirror. I knew I +could not have been mistaken when I felt them. + +There on the upper arm, above the line of sunburn that one gets from +working with sleeves rolled up, there on the white skin showed _the red +marks of four slender fingers and a thumb_! I sat down suddenly at sight +of them, and pulling open a drawer, found a flask of neat brandy, and +gulped it down, emptied it in one gulp. + +Then I turned to him and pointed to the marks. + +"In God's name, how came these here?" I said. "What--what happened up +there on deck?" + +He looked at me very gravely. + +"I saved you," he said, "or rather I didn't, for I could not. But _she_ +did." + +"What do you mean?" I stammered. + +"Let me get these clothes off," he said, "and some dry ones on; and I'll +tell you." + +Words fail to describe my feelings as I watched the clothes come off him +and dry ones go on just as if hands were arranging them. + +I sat and shuddered. I tried to close my eyes, but the weird, unnatural +sight drew them as a lodestone. + +"I'm sorry that you should have had this shock," he said. "I know what +it must have been like, though it was not so bad for me when they seemed +to come, for they came gradually as time went on." + +"What came gradually?" I asked. + +"Why, these arms! They're what I'm telling you about. You asked me to +tell you, I thought?" + +"Did I?" I said. "I don't know what I'm saying or asking. I think I'm +going mad, quite mad." + +"No," he said, "you're as sane as I am, only when you come across +something strange, unique for that matter, you are naturally terrified. +Well, it was like this. I told you about my adventures with the niggers +up country. That was quite true. They cut off both my arms--you can see +the stumps for that matter. And I told you that I came home to find my +wife dying. Her heart had always been weak, I'd known that, and it had +gradually grown more feeble. There must have been, indeed there was, a +strange sort of telepathy between us. She had had fearful attacks of +heart failure on both occasions when the niggers had mutilated me, I +learnt on comparing notes. + +"But I had known too, somehow, that I must escape at all costs. It was +the knowledge that made me try again after each failure. I should have +gone on trying to escape as long as I had lived, or rather as long as +she had lived. I knelt beside her bed and she put out her arms and laid +them round my neck. + +"'So you have come back to me before I go,' she said. 'I knew you must, +because I called you so. But you have been long in coming, almost too +long. But I knew I had to see you again before I died.' + +"I broke down then. I was sorely tried. No arms even to put round her! + +"'Darling, stay with me for a little, only for a little while!' I +sobbed. + +"She shook her head feebly. 'It is no use, my dear,' she said, 'I must +go.' + +"'I'll come with you,' I said, 'I'll not live without you.' + +"She shook her head again. + +"'You must be brave, Bob. I shall be watching you afterwards just as +much as if I still lived on earth. If only I could give you my arms! A +poor, weak woman's arms, but better than none, dear.' + +"She died some weeks later. I spent all the time at her bedside, I +hardly left her. Her arms were round me when she died. Shall I ever feel +them round me again? I wonder! You see, they are mine now. + +"They came to me gradually. It was very strange at first to have arms +and hands which one couldn't see. I used to keep my eyes shut as much as +possible, and try to fancy that I had never lost my arms. + +"I got used to them in time. But I have always been careful not to let +people see me do things that they would know to be impossible for an +armless man. That was what took me to Africa again, because I could get +lost there and do things for myself with these hands." + +"'And they twain shall be one flesh,'" I muttered. + +"Yes," he said, "I think the explanation must be something of that sort. +There's more than that in it, though; these arms are other than flesh." + +He sat silent for a time with his head bowed on his chest. Then he spoke +again: + +"I got sick of being alone at last, and was coming back when I met you +at Fourteen Streams. I don't know what I shall do when I do get home. I +can never rest. I have--what do they call it--_Wanderlust_?" + +"Does she ever speak to you from that other world?" I asked him. + +He shook his head sadly. + +"No, never. But I know she lives somewhere beyond this world of ours. +She must, because these arms live. So I try always to act as if she +watches everything. I always try to do the right thing, but, anyway, +these arms and hands would do good of their own accord. Just now up on +the deck I was very frightened. I'd have saved myself at any cost +almost, and let you go. But I could not do that. The hands clutched you. +It is her will, so much stronger and purer than mine, that still +persists. It is only when she does not exert it that I control these +arms." + +That was how I learnt the strangest tale that ever a man was told, and +knew the miracle to which I owed my life. + +It may be that Bob Masters was a coward. He always said that he was. +Personally I do not believe it, for he had the sweetest nature I ever +met. + +He had nowhere to go to in England and seemed to have no friends. So I +made him come down with me to Englehart, that dear old country seat of +my family in the Western shires which was now mine. + +Nancy lived in that country, too. + +There was no reason why we should not get married at once. We had waited +long enough. + +I can see again the old, ivy-grown church where Nancy and I were wed, +and Bob Masters standing by my side as best man. + +I remember feeling in his pocket for the ring, and as I did so, I felt a +hand grasp mine for a moment. + +Then there was the reception afterwards, and speech-making--the usual +sort of thing. + +Later Nancy and I drove off to the station. + +We had not said good-bye to Bob, for he'd insisted on driving to the +station with the luggage; said he was going to see the last of us there. + +He was waiting for us in the yard when we reached it, and walked with us +on to the platform. + +We stood there chatting about one thing and another, when I noticed that +Nancy was not talking much and seemed rather pale. I was just going to +remark on it when we heard the whistle of the train. There is a sharp +curve in the permanent way outside the station, so that a train is on +you all of a sudden. + +Suddenly to my horror I saw Nancy sway backwards towards the edge of the +platform. I tried vainly to catch her as she reeled and fell--right in +front of the oncoming train. I sprang forward to leap after her, but +hands grasped me and flung me back so violently that I fell down on the +platform. + +It was Bob Masters who took the place that should have been mine, and +leapt upon the metals. + +I could not see what happened then. The station-master says he saw Nancy +lifted from before the engine when it was right upon her. He says it was +as if she was lifted by the wind. She was quite close to Masters. "Near +enough for him to have lifted her, sir, if he'd had arms." The two of +them staggered for a moment, and together fell clear of the train. + +Nancy was little the worse for the awful accident, bruised, of course, +but poor Masters was unconscious. + +We carried him into the waiting-room, laid him on the cushions there, +and sent hot-foot for the doctor. + +He was a good country practitioner, and, I suppose, knew the ordinary +routine of his work quite well. He fussed about, hummed and hawed a lot. + +"Yes, yes," he said, as if he were trying to persuade himself. "Shock, +you know. He'll be better presently. Lucky, though, that he had no +arms." + +I noticed then, for the first time, that the sleeves of the coat had +been shorn away. + +"Doctor," I said, "how is he? Surely, if he isn't hurt he would not look +like that. What exactly do you mean by shock?" + +"Hum--er," he hesitated, and applied his stethoscope to Masters' heart +again. + +"The heart is very weak," he said at length. "Very weak. He's always +very anaemic, I suppose?" + +"No," I answered. "He's anything but that. He's----Good Lord, he's +bleeding to death! Put ligatures on his arms. Put ligatures on his +arms." + +"Please keep quiet, Mr. Riverston," the doctor said. "It must have been +a dreadful experience for you, and you are naturally very upset." + +I raved and cursed at him. I think I should have struck him, but the +others held me. They said they would take me away if I did not keep +quiet. + +Bob Masters opened his eyes presently, and saw them holding me. + +"Please let him go," he said. "It's all right, old man. It's no use your +arguing with them, they would not understand. I could never explain to +them now, and they would never believe you. Besides, it's all for the +best. Yes, the train went over them and I'm armless for the second time. +But--not for long!" + +I knelt by his side and sobbed. It all seemed so dreadful, and yet, I +don't think that then I would have tried to stay his passing. I knew it +was best for him. + +He looked at me very affectionately. + +"I'm so sorry that this should happen on your wedding-day," he said. +"But it would have been so much worse for you if _she_ had not helped." + +His voice grew fainter and died away. + +There was a pause for a time, and his breath came in great sighing sobs. + +Then suddenly he raised himself on the cushions until he stood upright +on his feet, and a smile broke over his face--a smile so sweet that I +think the angels in Paradise must look like that. + +His voice came strong and loud from his lips. + +"Darling!" he cried. "Darling, your arms are round me once again! I +come! I come!" + + * * * * * + +"One of the most extraordinary cases I have ever met with," the doctor +told the coroner at the inquest. "He seemed to have all the symptoms of +excessive haemorrhage." + + + + +III + +THE TOMTOM CLUE + + +I had just settled down for a comfortable evening over the fire in a +saddle-bag chair drawn up as close to the hearth as the fender would +allow, with a plentiful supply of literature and whisky, and pipe and +tobacco, when the telephone bell rang loudly and insistently. With a +sigh I rose and took up the receiver. + +"That you?" said a voice I recognised as that of Jack Bridges. "Can I +come round and see you at once? It's most important. No, I can't tell +you now. I'll be with you in a few minutes." + +I hung the receiver up again, wondering what business could fetch Jack +Bridges round at that time of the evening to see me. We had been the +greatest of pals at school and at the 'Varsity, and had kept the +friendship up ever since, despite my intermittent wanderings over the +face of the globe. But during the last few days or so Jack had become +engaged to Miss Glanville, the daughter of old Glanville, of South +African fame, and as a love-sick swain I naturally expected to see very +little of him, until after the wedding at any rate. + +At this time of the evening, according to my ideas of engaged couples, +he should be sitting in the stalls at some theatre, and not running +round to see bachelor friends with cynical views on matrimony. + +I had not arrived at a satisfactory solution when the door opened and +Jack walked in. One glance at his face told me that he was in trouble, +and without a word I pushed him into my chair and handed him a drink. +Then I sat down on the opposite side of the fire and waited for him to +begin, for a man in need of sympathy does not want to be worried by +questions. + +He gulped down half his whisky and sat for a moment gazing into the +fire. + +"Jim, old man," he said at length, "I've had awful news." + +"Not connected with Miss Glanville?" I asked. + +"In a way, yes. It's broken off, but there's worse than that--far worse. +I can hardly realise it; I feel numbed at present; it's too horrible. +You remember that when you and I were at Winchester together my father +was killed during the Matabele War?" + +I nodded. + +"Well," continued Jack, "I heard to-day that he was not killed by the +Matabele, but was hanged in Bulawayo for murder. In other words, I am +the son of a murderer." + +"Hanged for murder!" I exclaimed in horror. "Surely there's some +mistake?" + +"No," groaned Jack, "it's true enough. I've seen the newspaper cutting +of the time, and I'm the son of a murderer, who was also a forger, a +thief, and a card-sharper. Old Glanville told me this evening. It was +then that our engagement was broken off." + +"Your mother?" I asked. "Have you seen her?" + +Jack nodded. + +"Poor little woman!" he groaned. "She has known all along, and her one +aim and object in life has been to keep the awful truth from me. That +was why I was told he died an honourable death during the war. I've +often wondered why the little mother was always so sad, and so weighed +down by trouble. Now I know. Good God, what her life must have been!" + +He rose from his chair and paced up and down the room for a minute; then +he stopped and stood in front of me, his face working with emotion. + +"But I don't believe it, Jim," he said, and there was a ring in his +voice. "I don't believe it, and neither does the little mother. It's +impossible to reconcile the big, bluff man with the heart of a child, +that I remember as my father, with murder, forgery, or any other crime. +And yet, according to Glanville and the old newspapers he showed me, +Richard Bridges was one of the most unscrupulous ruffians in South +Africa. In my heart of hearts I know he didn't do it, and though on the +face of it there's no doubt, I'm going to try and clear his name. I am +sailing for South Africa on Friday." + +"Sailing for South Africa!" I exclaimed. "What about your work?" + +"My work can go hang!" replied Jack heatedly. "I want to wipe away the +stain from my father's name, and I mean to do it somehow. That's why +I've run round to see you, old pal, for I want you to come with me. +Knowing Rhodesia as you do, you're just the man to help me. Say you'll +come?" he pleaded. + +It seemed quite the forlornest hope I had ever heard of, but Jack's +distress was so acute that I hadn't the heart to refuse. + +"All right, Jack," I said, "I'm with you. But don't foster any vain +hopes. Remember, it's twenty years ago. It will be a pretty tough job to +prove anything after all these years." + +During the voyage out we had ample time to go through the small amount +of information about the long-forgotten case that Jack had been able to +collect from the family solicitors. + +In the year 1893, Richard Bridges, who was a mining engineer of some +standing, had made a trip to Rhodesia with a view to gold and diamond +prospecting. He had been accompanied by a friend, Thomas Symes, who, so +far as we could ascertain, was an ex-naval officer; and the two, after a +short stay at Bulawayo, had gone northward across the Guai river into +what was in those days a practically unknown land. In a little over a +year's time Bridges had returned alone--his companion having been, so he +stated, killed by the Matabele, and for six months or so he led a +dissolute life in Bulawayo and the district, which ended ultimately in +his execution for murder. There was no doubt whatever about the murder, +or the various thefts and forgeries that he was accused of, as he had +made a confession at his trial, and we seemed to be on a wild-goose +chase of the worst variety so far as I could see; but Jack, confident of +his father's innocence, would not hear of failure. + +"It's impossible to make surmises at this stage," he said. "On the face +of it there appears to be little room for doubt, but no one who knew my +father could possibly connect him with any sort of crime. Somehow or +other, Jim, I've got to clear his name." + +My memory went back to a tall, sunburnt man with a kindly manner who had +come down to the school one day and put up a glorious feed at the tuck +shop to Jack and his friends. Afterwards, at his son's urgent request, +he had bared his chest to show us his tattooing of which Jack had, +boy-like, often boasted to us. I recalled how we had gazed admiringly at +the skilfully worked picture of Nelson with his empty sleeve and closed +eye and the inscription underneath: "England expects that every man this +day will do his duty." Jack had explained with considerable pride that +this did not constitute all, as on his father's back was a wonderful +representation of the _Victory_, and on other parts of his body a lion, +a snake, and other _fauna_, but Richard Bridges had protested laughingly +and refused to undress further for our delectation. + +We reached Bulawayo, but no one in the city appeared to recall the case +at all; indeed, Bulawayo had grown out of all recognition since Richard +Bridges had passed through it on his prospecting trip. It was difficult +to know where to start. Even the police could not help, and had no +knowledge of where the murderer had been buried. No one but an old +saloon-keeper and a couple of miners could recollect the execution even, +and they, so far as they could remember, had never met Richard Bridges +in the flesh, though his unsavoury reputation was well known to them. + +In despair, Jack suggested a trek up country towards Barotseland, which +was the district that Bridges and Symes had proposed to prospect, +though, according to all accounts, Symes had been murdered by the +Matabele before they reached the Guai river. + +For the next month we trekked steadily northwards, having very fair +sport; but, as I expected, extracting no information whatever from the +natives about the two prospectors who had passed that way years before. +At length, Jack became more or less reconciled to failure, and realising +the futility of further search suggested a return to Bulawayo. As our +donkey caravan was beginning to suffer severely from the fly, I +concurred, and we started to travel slowly back to Bulawayo, shooting by +the way. + +One night after a particularly hard trek we inspanned at an old _kraal_, +the painted walls of which told that at one time it had served as a +royal residence, and as I had shot an eland cow that afternoon, which +provided far more meat than we could consume, we invited the induna and +his tribe to the feast. Not to be outdone in hospitality, the old chief +produced the kaffir beer of the country, a liquid which has nothing to +recommend it beyond the fact that it intoxicates rapidly. + +A meat feast and a beer drink is a great event in the average kaffir's +life, and as the evening wore on a general jollification started to the +thump of tomtoms and the squeak of kaffir fiddles. There was one very +drunk old Barotse, who sat close to me, and, accompanying himself with +thumps on his tomtom, sang in one droning key a song about a man who +kept snakes and lions inside him, and from whose chest the evil eye +looked out. At least, so far as I could gather that was roughly the gist +of the song; but as his tomtom was particularly large and most obnoxious +I politely took it away from him, and Jack and I used it as a table for +our gourds of kaffir beer, which we were pretending to consume in large +quantities. + +A gourd, however, is a top-heavy sort of drinking vessel, and in a very +short time I had succeeded in spilling half a pint or so of my drink on +the parchment of the drum. Not wishing to spoil the old gentleman's +plaything, which he evidently valued above all things, I mopped up the +beer with my handkerchief, and in doing so removed from the parchment a +portion of the accumulated filth of ages. + +"Hullo!" said Jack, taking the instrument from me and holding it up to +the firelight. "There's a picture of some sort here. It looks like a man +in a cocked hat." + +He rubbed it hard with his pocket handkerchief, and the polishing +brought more of the picture to light, till, plain enough in places and +faded in others, there stood out, the portrait of a man in an +old-fashioned naval uniform with stars on his breast, and underneath +some letters in the form of a scroll. + +"That's not native work," I exclaimed. "These are English letters," for +I could distinctly make out the word "man" followed by a "t" and an "h." +"Rub it hard, Jack." + +The grease on the parchment refused to give way to further polishing, +however, and remembering a bottle of ammonia I kept for insect bites, I +mixed some with kaffir beer and poured it on the head of the tomtom. One +touch of the handkerchief was sufficient once the strong alkali got to +work, and out came the grand old face of Nelson and underneath his +motto: + +"England expects that every man this day will do his duty." + +Jack dropped the drum as if it had bitten him. + +"What does it mean?" he gasped. "My father had this on his chest. I +remember it well!" + +I was, however, too busy with the reverse end of the drum to heed him. +On the other side the ammonia brought out a picture of the _Victory_, +with the head of a roaring lion below it. + +"Good God!" exclaimed Jack. "My father had that on his back. Quick, Jim, +rub hard! There should be the family crest to the right--an eagle with a +snake in its talons and R. B. underneath." + +I rubbed in the spot indicated, and out came the crest and initials +exactly as Jack had described them. There was something horribly uncanny +and gruesome in finding the tattoo marks of the dead man on the +parchment of a Barotse tomtom two hundred miles north of the Zambesi, +and for a moment I was too overcome with astonishment to grasp exactly +what it meant. Then it came to my mind in a flash that the parchment was +nothing else than human skin, and Richard Bridges' skin at that. I put +it down with sudden reverence, and, beckoning to its owner, demanded its +full history. At first he showed signs of fear, but promising him a +waist length of cloth if he told the truth, he squatted on his hams +before us and began. + +"Many, many moons ago, before the white men came to trade across the Big +Water as they do now, two white baases came into this country to look +for white stones and gold. One baas was bigger than the other, and on +his chest and on his body were pictures of birds, and beasts, and +strange things. On his chest was a great inkoos with one eye covered, +and on his back a hut with trees growing straight up into the air from +it. On his loins was a lion of great fierceness, and coiled round his +waist was a hissing mamba (snake). We were sore afraid, for the white +baas told us he was bewitched, and that if harm came to either he would +uncover the closed eye of the great inkoos upon his chest, which was the +Evil Eye, and command him to blast the Barotse and their land for ever. + +"So the white men were suffered to come and go in peace, for we dreaded +the Evil Eye of the great inkoos. They toiled, these white baases, +digging in the hillside and searching the riverbed; and then one day it +came to pass that they quarrelled and fought, and the baas with the +pictures was slain. We knew then that his medicine was bad medicine, +otherwise the white baas without the pictures could not have killed him. +So we were wroth and made to slay the other baas, but he shot us down +with a fire stick and returned to his own country in haste. Then did I +take the skin from the dead baas, for I loved him for his pictures, and +I made them into a tomtom. I have spoken." + +"Good heavens!" exclaimed Jack when I had translated the story. "Then my +father was killed here in Barotseland, and it was Symes, his murderer, +who went back to Bulawayo. It was that fiend Symes, also, who took my +father's name, probably to draw any money that might have been left +behind, and who, as Richard Bridges, was hanged for murder. Poor old +dad," he added brokenly, "murdered, and his body mutilated by savages! +But how glad I am to know that he died an honest man!" + +With the evidence at hand it was easy to prove the identity of the +murderer of twenty years ago, and, having settled the matter +satisfactorily and cleared the dead man's name, Jack and I returned to +England, where a few weeks later I had to purchase wedding garments in +order that I might play the part of best man at Jack's wedding. + + + + +IV + +THE CASE OF SIR ALISTER MOERAN + + +"Ethne?" My aunt looked at me with raised brows and smiled. "My dear +Maurice, hadn't you heard? Ethne went abroad directly after Christmas, +with the Wilmotts, for a trip to Egypt. She's having a glorious time!" + +I am afraid I looked as blank as I felt. I had only landed in England +three days ago, after two years' service in India, and the one thing I +had been looking forward to was seeing my cousin Ethne again. + +"Then, since you did not know she was away, you, of course, have not +heard the other news?" went on my aunt. + +"No," I answered in a wooden voice. "I've heard nothing." + +She beamed. "The dear child is engaged to a Sir Alister Moeran, whom she +met in Luxor. Everyone is delighted, as it is a splendid match for her. +Lady Wilmott speaks most highly of him, a man of excellent family and +position, and perfectly charming to boot." + +I believe I murmured something suitable, but it was absurd to pretend to +be overjoyed at the news. The galling part of it was that Aunt Linda +knew, and was chuckling, so to speak, over my discomfiture. + +"If you are going up to Wimberley Park," she went on sweetly, "you will +probably meet them both, as your Uncle Bob has asked us all there for +the February house-party. He cabled an invitation to Sir Alister as soon +as he heard of the engagement. Wasn't it good of him?" + +I replied that it was; then, having heard quite enough for one day of +the charms of Ethne's _fiance_, I took my leave. + +That night, after cursing myself for a churl, I wrote and wished her +good luck. The next morning I received a letter from Uncle Bob asking me +to go to Wimberley; and early in the following week I travelled up to +Cumberland. I received a warm welcome from the old General. As a boy I +used to spend the greater part of my holidays with him, and being +childless himself, he regarded me more or less as a son. + +On February 16th Ethne, her mother, and Sir Alister Moeran arrived. I +motored to the station to meet them. The evening was cold and raw and so +dark that it was almost impossible to distinguish people on the badly +lighted little platform. However, as I groped my way along, I recognised +Ethne's voice, and thus directed, hurried towards the group. As I did so +two gleaming, golden eyes flashed out at me through the darkness. + +"Hullo!" I thought. "So she's carted along the faithful Pincher!" But +the next moment I found I was mistaken, for Ethne was holding out both +hands to me in greeting. There was no dog with her, and in the bustle +that followed, I forgot to seek further for the solution of those two +fiery lights. + +"It was good of you to come, Maurice," Ethne said with unmistakable +pleasure, then, turning to the man at her side, "Alister, this is my +cousin, Captain Kilvert, of whom you have heard me speak." + +We murmured the usual formalities in the usual manner, but as my fingers +touched his, I experienced the most curious sensation down the region of +my spine. It took me back to Burma and a certain very uncomfortable +night that I once passed in the jungle. But the impression was so +fleeting as to be indefinable, and soon I was busy getting everyone +settled in the car. + +So far, except that he possessed an exceptionally charming voice, I had +no chance of forming an opinion of my cousin's _fiance_. It was +half-past seven when we got back to the house, so we all went straight +up to our rooms to dress for dinner. + +Everyone was assembled in the drawing-room when Sir Alister Moeran came +in, and I shall never forget the effect his appearance made. +Conversation ceased entirely for an instant. There was a kind of +breathless pause, which was almost audible as my uncle rose to greet +him. In all my life I had never seen a handsomer man, and I don't +suppose anyone else there had either. It was the most startling, +arresting style of beauty one could possibly imagine, and yet, even as I +stared at him in admiration, the word "Black!" flashed into my mind. + +Black! I pulled myself up sharply. We English, who have lived out in the +East, are far too prone to stigmatise thus anyone who shows the smallest +trace of being a "half breed"; but in Sir Alister's case there was not +even a suspicion of this. He was no darker than scores of men of my own +nationality, and besides, he belonged, I knew, to a very old Scottish +family. Yet, try as I would to strangle the idea, all through the +evening the same horrible, unaccountable notion clung to me. + +That he was the personality of the gathering there was not the slightest +doubt. Men and women alike seemed attracted by him, for his +individuality was on a par with his looks. + +Several times during dinner I glanced at Ethne, but it was easy to see +that all her attention was taken up by her lover. Yet, oddly enough, I +was not jealous in the ordinary way. I saw the folly of imagining that I +could stand a chance against a man like Moeran, and, moreover, he +interested me too deeply. His knowledge of the East was extraordinary, +and later, when the ladies had retired, he related many curious +experiences. + +"Might I ask," said my uncle's friend, Major Faucett, suddenly, "whether +you were in the Service, or had you a Government appointment out there?" + +Sir Alister smiled, and under his moustache I caught the gleam of +strong, white teeth. + +"As a matter of fact, neither. I am almost ashamed to say I have no +profession, unless I may call myself an explorer." + +"And why not?" put in Uncle Bob. "Provided your explorations were to +some purpose and of benefit to the community in general, I consider you +are doing something worth while." + +"Exactly," Sir Alister replied. "From my earliest boyhood I have always +had the strangest hankering for the East. I say strange, because to my +parents it was inexplicable, neither of them having the slightest +leaning in that direction, though to me it seemed the most natural +desire in the world. I was like an alien in a foreign land, longing to +get home. I recollect, as a child, my nurse thought me a beastly uncanny +kid because I loved to lie in bed and listen to the cats howling and +fighting outside. I used to put my head half under the blankets and +imagine I was in my lair in the jungle, and those were the jackals and +panthers prowling around outside." + +"I suppose you'd been reading adventure books," Uncle Bob said, with a +laugh. "I played at much the same game when I was a youngster, only in +my case it was Redskins." + +"Possibly," Sir Alister answered with a slight shrug, "only mine wasn't +a game that I played with any other boys, it was a gnawing desire, which +simply had to be satisfied; and the opportunity came. When I was +fourteen, the father of a school friend of mine, who was going out to +India, asked me to go out with him and the boy for the trip. Of course, +I went." + +"I wonder," the Major remarked, "that you ever came back once you got +there, since you were so frightfully keen." + +"I was certain I should return," he replied grimly. + +A pause followed his last words, then Uncle Bob rose and led the way to +the drawing-room, where for the remainder of the evening Sir Alister was +chiefly monopolised by the ladies. + + * * * * * + +"Well, Maurice," Uncle Bob said, when on the following evening I was +sitting in his study having my usual before-dinner chat with him, "and +how do you like Ethne's future husband?" + +I hesitated. "I--I really don't know," I replied. + +"Come, boy," he said, with his whimsical smile, "why not be frank and +own to a very natural jealousy?" + +"Because," I answered simply, "the feeling Sir Alister Moeran inspires +in me is not jealousy, curiously enough. It's something else, something +indefinable that comes over me now and again. Dogs don't like him, and +that's always a bad sign, to my thinking." + +My uncle's bushy eyebrows went up slightly. + +"When did you make this discovery?" + +"This morning," I replied. "You know I took him and Ethne round the +place. Well, the first thing I noticed was that Mike refused to come +with us, although both Ethne and I called him. As we passed through the +hall he slunk away into the library. I thought it a bit strange, as he's +usually so frantic to go out with me. Still, I didn't attach any +significance to the matter until later, when we visited the kennels. I +don't know why, but one takes it for granted that a man is keen on dogs +somehow and----" + +"Isn't Sir Alister?" + +"They are not keen on him, anyhow," I answered grimly. "They had heard +my voice as we approached and were all barking with delight, but +directly we entered the place there was a dead silence, save for a few +ominous growls from Argo. It was a most extraordinary sight. They all +bristled up, so to speak, sniffing the air though on the scent of +something. I let Bess and Fritz loose, but instead of jumping up, as +they usually do, they hung back and showed the whites of their eyes in a +way I've never seen before. I actually had to whistle to them sharply +several times before they came, and then it was in a slinking manner, +taking good care to put Ethne and me between themselves and Moeran, and +looking askance at him the whole while." + +"H'm!" murmured the General with puckered brows. "That was certainly +odd, very odd!" + +"It was," I agreed, warming to the subject, "but there's odder still to +come. I dare say you'll think it all my fancy, but the minute those +animals put their heads up and sniffed in that peculiar way, I +distinctly smelt the musky, savage odour of wild beasts. You know it +well, anyone who has been through a jungle does." + +Uncle Bob nodded. "I know it, too; 'Musky' is the very word--the smell +of sun-warmed fur. Jove, how it carries me back! I remember once, years +ago, coming upon a litter of lion cubs, in a cave, when I was out in +Africa----" + +"Yes! Yes!" I cried eagerly. "And that is what I smelt this morning. +Those dogs smelt it, too. They felt that there was something alien, +abnormal in their midst." + +"That something being--Sir Alister Moeran?" + +I felt myself flush up under his gaze. I got up and walked about the +room. + +"I don't understand it," I said doggedly. "I tell you plainly, Uncle +Bob, I don't understand. My impression of the man last night was +'black,' but he's not black, I know that perfectly well, no more than +you or I are, and yet I can't get over the behaviour of those hounds. +It wasn't only one of 'em, it was the whole lot. They seemed to regard +him as their natural enemy! And that smell! I'm sure Ethne detected it +too, for she kept glancing about her in a startled, mystified way." + +"And Sir Alister?" queried the General. "Do you mean to say he did not +notice anything amiss?" + +I shrugged my shoulders. "He didn't appear to. I called attention myself +to the singular attitude of the hounds, and he said quite casually: +'Dogs never do take to me much.'" + +Uncle Bob gave a short laugh. "Our friend is evidently not sensitive." +He paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then added: "It certainly is +rather curious, but, for Heaven's sake, boy, don't get imagining all +sorts of things!" + +This nettled me and made me wish I had held my tongue. I was quite aware +that my story might have sounded somewhat fantastic from a stranger; +still, he ought to have known me better than to accuse me of +imagination. I abruptly changed the subject, and shortly after left the +room. + +But I could not banish from my mind the incident of the morning. I could +not forget the appealing faces of those dogs. Ethne and Sir Alister had +left me there and returned to the house together, and, after their +departure, those poor, dumb beasts had gathered round me in a way that +was absolutely pathetic, licking and fondling my hands, as though +apologising for their previous misconduct. Still, I understood. That +bristling up their spines was precisely the same sensation I had +experienced when I first met Sir Alister Moeran. + +As I was slowly mounting the stairs on my way up to dress, I heard +someone running up after me, and turned round to find Ethne beside me. + +"Maurice," she said, rather breathlessly, "tell me, you did not punish +Fritz and Bess for not coming at once when you called them this +morning?" + +"No," I answered. + +She gave a nervous little laugh. "I'm glad of that. I thought +perhaps----" She stopped short, then rushed on, "You know how queer +mother is about cats--can't bear one in the room, and how they always +fly out directly she comes in? Well, dogs are the same with Alister. +He--he told me so himself. It seems funny to me, and I suppose to you, +because we're so fond of all kinds of animals; but I don't really see +why it should be any more extraordinary to have an antipathy for dogs +than for cats, and no one thinks anything of it if you dislike cats." + +"That is so," I said thoughtfully. + +"Anyway," she went on, "it is not our own fault if a certain animal does +not instinctively take to us." + +"Of course not," I replied stoutly. "You're surely not worrying about +it, are you?" + +She hastened to assure me that she was not, but I could see that my +indorsing her opinion was a great relief to her. She had been afraid +that I should think it unnatural. I did for that matter, but I could +not, of course, tell her so. + +That night Sir Alister and I sat up late talking after the other men had +retired. We had got on the subject of India and had been comparing notes +as to our different adventures. From this we went on to discussing +perilous situations and escapes, and it was then that he narrated to me +a very curious incident. + +"It happened when I was only twenty-one," he said, "the year after my +father died. I think I told you that as soon as ever I became my own +master, I packed up and was off to the East. I had a friend with me, a +boy who had been my best pal at school. They used to call us 'Black and +White.' He was fair and girlish-looking, and his name was Buchanan. He +was just as keen on India as I was, and purposed writing a book +afterwards on our experiences. + +"Our intention was to explore the wildest, most savage districts, and as +a start we selected the province of Orissa. The forests there are +wonderful, and it is there, if anywhere, that the almost extinct Indian +lion is still to be found. We engaged two sturdy hillmen to accompany us +and pushed our way downwards from Calcutta over mountains, rivers and +through some of the densest jungles I've ever traversed. It was on the +outskirts of one of the latter that the tragedy took place. We had +pitched our tents one evening after a long, tiring day, and turned in +early to sleep, Buchanan and I in one, and the two Bhils in the other." + +Sir Alister paused for a few moments, toying with his cigar in an +abstracted manner, then continued in the same clear, even voice: + +"When I awoke next morning, I found my friend lying beside me dead, and +blood all round us! His throat was torn open by the teeth of some wild +beast, his breast was horribly mauled and lacerated, and his eyes were +wide, staring open, and their expression was awful. He must have died a +hideous death and known it!" + +Again he stopped, but I made no comment, only waited with breathless +interest till he went on. + +"I called the two men. They came and looked, and for the first time I +saw terror written on their faces. Their nostrils quivered as though +scenting something; then 'Tiger!' they gasped simultaneously. + +"One of them said he had heard a stifled scream in the night, but had +thought it merely some animal in the jungle. The whole thing was a +mystery. How I came to sleep undisturbed through it all, how I escaped +the same fate, and why the tiger did not carry off his prey----" + +"You are sure it was a tiger?" I put in. + +"I think there was no doubt of it," Sir Alister replied. "The Bhils +swore the teeth-marks were unmistakable, and not only that, but I saw +another case seven years later. The body of a young woman was found in +the compound outside my bungalow, done to death in precisely the same +way. And several of the natives testified as to there being a tiger in +that vicinity, for they had found three or four young goats destroyed in +similar fashion." + +"Who was the girl?" I asked. + +Moeran slowly turned his lucent, amber eyes upon me as he answered. "She +was a German, a sort of nursery governess at the English doctor's. He +was naturally frightfully upset about it, and a regular panic sprang up +in the neighbourhood. The natives got a superstitious scare--thought +one of their gods was wroth about something and demanded sacrifice; but +the white people were simply out to kill the tiger." + +"And did they?" I queried eagerly. + +Sir Alister shook his head. "That I can't say, as I left the place very +soon afterwards and went up to the mountains." + +A long silence followed, during which I stared at him in mute +fascination. Then an unaccountable impulse made me say abruptly: +"Moeran, how old are you?" + +His finely-marked eyebrows went up in surprise at the irrelevance of my +question, but he smiled. + +"Funny you should ask! It so happens that it's my birthday to-morrow. I +shall be thirty-five." + +"Thirty-five!" I repeated. Then with a shiver I rose from my seat. The +room seemed to have turned suddenly cold. + +"Come," I said, "let's go to bed." + + * * * * * + +Next night at dinner I proposed Sir Alister's health, and we all drank +to him and his "bride-to-be." They had that day definitely settled the +date of their marriage for two months ahead; Ethne was looking radiant +and everyone seemed in the best of spirits. + +We danced and romped and played rowdy games like a pack of children. +Nothing was too silly for us to attempt. While a one-step was in full +swing some would-be wag suddenly turned off all the lights. It was then +that for a moment I caught sight of a pair of glowing, fiery eyes +shining through the darkness. Instantly my thoughts flew back to that +meeting at the station, when I had fancied that Ethne had her dog in her +arms. A chill, sinister feeling crept over me, but I kept my gaze fixed +steadily in the same direction. The next minute the lights went up, and +I found myself staring straight at Sir Alister Moeran. His arm was round +Ethne's waist and she was smiling up into his face. Almost immediately +they took up the dance again, and I and my partner followed suit. But +all my gaiety had departed. An indefinable oppression seized me and +clung to me for the rest of the evening. + +As I emerged from my room next morning I saw old Giles, the butler, +hurrying down the corridor towards me. + +"Oh, Mr. Maurice--Captain Kilvert, sir!" he burst out, consternation in +every line of his usually stolid countenance. "A dreadful thing has +happened! How it's come about I can't for the life of me say, and how +we're going to tell the General, the Lord only knows!" + +"What?" I asked, seizing him by the arm. "What is it?" + +"The dawg, sir," he answered in a hoarse whisper, "Mike--in the +study----" + +I waited to hear no more, but strode off down the stairs, Giles hobbling +beside me as fast as he could, and together we entered the study. + +In the middle of the floor lay the body of Mike. A horrible foreboding +gripped me, and I quickly knelt down and raised the dog's head. His neck +was torn open, bitten right through to the windpipe, the blood still +dripping from it into a dark pool on the carpet. + +A cold, numbing sensation stole down my spine and made my legs grow +suddenly weak. Beads of perspiration gathered on my forehead as I +slowly rose to my feet and faced Giles. + +"What's the meaning of it, sir?" he asked, passing his hand across his +brow in utter bewilderment. "That dawg was as right as possible when I +shut up last night, and he couldn't have got out." + +"No," I answered mechanically, "he couldn't have got out." + +"Looks like some wild beast had attacked him," muttered the old man, in +awed tones, as he bent over the lifeless body. "D'ye see the teeth +marks, sir? But it's not possible--not possible." + +"No," I said again, in the same wooden fashion. "It's not possible." + +"But how're we going to account for it to the General?" he cried +brokenly. "Oh, Mr. Maurice, sir, it's dreadful!" + +I nodded. "You're right, Giles! Still, it isn't your fault, nor mine. +Leave the matter to me. I'll break it to my uncle." + +It was a most unenviable task, but I did it. Poor Uncle Bob! I shall +never forget his face when he saw the mutilated body of the dog that for +years had been his faithful companion. He almost wept, only rage and +resentment against the murderer were so strong in him that they thrust +grief for the time into the background. The mysterious, incomprehensible +manner of the dog's death only added to his anger, for there was +apparently no one on whom to wreak his vengeance. + +The news caused general concern throughout the house, and Ethne was +frightfully upset. + +"Oh, Alister, isn't it awful?" she exclaimed, tears standing in her +pretty blue eyes. "Poor, darling Mike!" + +"Yes," he answered rather absently. "It's most unfortunate. Valuable +dog, too, wasn't it?" + +I walked away. The man's calm, handsome face filled me suddenly with +unspeakable revulsion. The atmosphere of the room seemed to become heavy +and noisome. I felt compelled to get out into the open to breathe. + +I found the General tramping up and down the drive in the rain, his chin +sunk deep into the collar of his overcoat, his hat pulled low down over +his eyes. I joined him without speaking, and in silence we paced side by +side for another quarter of an hour. + +"Uncle Bob," I said abruptly at last, "take my advice. Have one of the +hounds indoors to-night--Princep, he's a good watch-dog." + +The General stopped short in his walk and looked at me. + +"You've something on your mind, boy. What is it?" + +"This," I answered grimly. "Whoever, or whatever killed Mike was in the +house last night, or got in, after Giles shut up. It may still be there +for all we know. In the dark, dark deeds are done, and--well, I think +it's wise to take precautions." + +"Good God, Maurice, if there is any creature in hiding, we'll soon have +it out! I'll have the place searched now. But the thing's impossible, +absurd!" + +I shrugged my shoulders. "Then Mike died a natural death?" + +"Natural?" he echoed fiercely. "Don't talk rubbish!" + +"In that case," I said quietly, "you'll agree to let one of the dogs +sleep in." + +He gave me a long, troubled, searching look, then said gruffly: "Very +well, but don't make any fuss about it. Women are such nervous beings +and we don't want to upset anyone." + +"You needn't be afraid of that," I replied, "I'll manage it all right." + +There was no further talk of Mike that day. The visitors, seeing how +distressed the General was, by tacit consent avoided the subject, but +everyone felt the dampening effect. + +That night, before I retired to my room, I took a lantern, went out to +the kennels and brought in Princep, a pure-bred Irish setter. He was a +dog of exceptional intelligence, and when I spoke to him, explaining the +reason of his presence indoors, he seemed to know instinctively what was +required of him. + +As I passed the study I noticed a light coming from under the door. +Somewhat surprised, I turned the handle and looked in. My uncle was +seated before his desk in the act of loading a revolver. He glanced up +sharply as I entered. + +"Oh, it's you, is it? Got the dog in?" + +"Yes," I replied, "I've left him in the library with the door open." + +He regarded the revolver pensively for a few moments, then laid it down +in front of him. + +"You've no theory as to this--this business?" + +I shook my head, I could offer no explanation. Yet all the while there +lurked, deep down in my heart, a hideous suspicion, a suspicion so +monstrous that had I voiced it, I should probably have been considered +mad. And so I held my peace on the subject and merely wished my uncle +good-night. + +It was about one o'clock when I got into bed, but my brain was far too +agitated for sleep. Something I had heard years ago, some old wives' +tales about a man's life changing every seven years, kept dinning in my +head. I was striving to remember how the story went, when a slight sound +outside caught my ear. In a second I was out of bed and had silently +opened the door. As I did so, someone passed close by me down the +corridor. + +Cautiously, with beating heart, I crept out and followed. However, I +almost exclaimed aloud in my amazement, for the light from a window fell +full on the figure ahead of me, and I recognised my cousin Ethne. She +was sleep-walking, a habit she had had from her childhood, and which +apparently she had never outgrown. + +For some minutes I stood there, undecided how to act, while she passed +on down the stairs, out of sight. To wake her I knew would be wrong. I +knew, also, that she had walked thus a score of times without coming to +any harm. There was, therefore, no reason why I should not return to my +room and leave her to her wandering, yet still I remained rooted to the +spot, all my senses strained, alert. And then suddenly I heard Princep +whine. A series of low, stertorous growls followed, growls that made my +blood run cold! With swift, noiseless steps, I stole along to the +minstrel's gallery which overlooked that portion of the hall that +communicated with the library. As I did so, there arose from immediately +below me a succession of sharp snarls, such as a dog gives when he is +in deadly fear or pain. + +A shaft of moonlight fell across the polished floor, and by its aid I +was just able to distinguish the form of Princep crouched against the +wainscoting. He was breathing heavily, his head turned all the while +towards the opposite side of the room. I looked in the same direction. +Out of the darkness gleamed two fiery, golden orbs, two eyes that moved +slowly to and fro, backwards and forwards, as though the Thing were +prowling round and round. Now it seemed to crouch as though ready to +spring, and I could hear the savage growling as of some beast of prey. + +As I watched, horrified, fascinated, a _portiere_ close by was lifted, +and the white-robed figure of Ethne appeared. All heedless of danger she +came on across the hall, and the Thing, with soft, stealthy tread, came +after her. I knew then that there was not an instant to be lost, and +like a flash I darted along the gallery and down the stairs. But ere I +gained the hall a piercing scream rent the air, and I was just in time +to see Ethne borne to the ground by a great, dark form, which had sprung +at her like a tiger. + +Half frantic, I dashed forward, snatching as I did so a rapier from the +wall, the only weapon handy. But before I reached the spot, a voice from +the study doorway called: "Stop!" and the next moment the report of a +pistol rang out. + +"Good God!" I cried. "Who have you shot?" + +"Not the girl," answered the grim voice of my uncle, "you may trust my +aim for that! I fired at the eyes of the Thing. Here, quick, get lights +and let's see what has happened." + +But my one and only thought was for Ethne. Moving across to the dark +mass on the floor, I stretched out my hand. My fingers touched a smooth, +fabric-like cloth, but the smell was the smell of fur, the musky, +sun-warmed fur of the jungle! With sickening repugnance, I seized the +Thing by its two broad shoulders and rolled it over. Then I carefully +raised Ethne from the ground. At that moment Giles and a footman +appeared with candles. In silence my uncle took one and came towards me, +the servants with scared, blanched countenances following. + +The light fell full upon the dead, upturned face of Sir Alister Moeran. +His upper lip was drawn back, showing the strong, white teeth. The two +front ones were tipped with blood. Instantly my eyes turned to Ethne's +throat, and there I saw deep, horrible marks, like the marks of a +tiger's fangs; but, thank God, they had not penetrated far enough to do +any serious injury! My uncle's shot had come just in time to save her. + +"Merely fainted, hasn't she?" he asked anxiously. + +I nodded. My relief at finding this was so, was too great for words. + +"Heaven be praised!" I heard him mutter. Then lifting my beautiful, +unconscious burden in my arms, I carried her upstairs to her room. + + * * * * * + +Can I explain, can anyone explain, the mysterious vagaries of atavism? I +only know that there are amongst us, rare instances fortunately, but +existent nevertheless--men with the souls of beasts. They may be +cognisant of the fact or otherwise. In the case of Sir Alister I feel +sure it was the latter. He had probably no more idea than I what +far-reaching, evil strain it was that came out in his blood and turned +him, every seven years, practically into a vampire. + + + + +V + +THE KISS + + +The quiet of the deserted building incircled the little, glowing room as +the velvet incircles the jewel in its case. Occasionally faint sounds +came from the distance--the movements of cleaners at work, a raised +voice, the slamming of a door. + +The man sat at his desk, as he had sat through the busy day, but he had +turned sideways in his seat, the better to regard the other occupant of +the room. + +She was not beautiful--had no need to be. Her call to him had been the +saner call of mind to mind. That he desired, besides, the passing +benediction of her hands, the fragrance of her corn-gold hair, the sight +of her slenderness: this she had guessed and gloried in. Till now, he +had touched her physical self neither in word nor deed. To-night, she +knew, the barriers would be down; to-night they would kiss. + +Her quiet eyes, held by his during the spell that had bound them +speechless, did not flinch at the breaking of it. + +"The Lord made the world and then He made this rotten old office," the +man said quietly. "Into it He put you--and me. What, before that day, +has gone to the making and marring of me, and the making and perfecting +of you, is not to the point. It is enough that we have realised, heart, +and soul, and body, that you are mine and I am yours." + +"Yes," she said. + +He fell silent again, his eyes on her hungrily. She felt them and longed +for his touch. But there came only his voice. + +"I want you. The first moment I saw you I wanted you. I thought then +that, whatever the cost, I would have you. That was in the early days of +our talks here--before you made it so courageously clear to me that it +would never be possible for you to ignore my marriage and come to me. +That is still so, isn't it?" + +She moved slightly, like a dreamer in pain, as again she faced the creed +she had hated through many a sleepless night. + +"It is so," she agreed. "And because it is so, you are going away +to-morrow." + +"Yes." + +They looked at each other across the foot or two of intervening space. +It was a look to bridge death with. But even beneath their suffering, +her eyes voiced the tremulous waiting of her lips. + +At last he found words. + +"You are the most wonderful woman in the world--the pluckiest, the most +completely understanding; you have the widest charity. I suppose I ought +to thank you for it all; I can't--that's not my way. I have always +demanded of you, demanded enormously, and received my measure pressed +down and running over. Now I am going to ask this last thing of you: +will you, of your goodness, go away--upstairs, anywhere--and come back +in ten minutes' time? By then I shall have cleared out." + +She looked at him almost incredulously, lips parted. Suddenly she seemed +a child. + +"You--I----" she stammered. Then rising to her feet, with a superb +simplicity: "But, you must kiss me before you go. You must! You--simply +_must_." + +For the space of a flaming moment it seemed that in one stride he would +have crossed to her side, caught and held her. + +"For God's sake----!" he muttered, in almost ludicrous fear of himself. +Then, with a big effort, he regained his self-control. + +"Listen," he said hoarsely. "I want to kiss you so much that I daren't +even get to my feet. Do you understand what that means? Think of it, +just for a moment, and then realise that _I am not going to kiss you_. +And I have kissed many women in my time, too, and shall kiss more, no +doubt." + +"But it's not because of that----?" + +"That I'm holding back? No. Neither is it because I funk the torture of +kissing you once and letting you go. It's because I'm afraid--for +_you_." + +"For me?" + +"Listen. You have unfolded your beliefs to me and, though I don't hold +them--don't attempt to live up to your lights--the realisation of them +has given me a reverence for you that you don't dream of. I have put you +in a shrine and knelt to you; every time you have sat in that chair and +talked with me, I have worshipped you." + +"It would not alter--all that," the girl said faintly, "if you kissed +me." + +"I don't believe that; neither do you--no, you don't! In your heart of +hearts you admit that a woman like you is not kissed for the first and +last time by a man like me. Suppose I kissed you now? I should awaken +something in you as yet half asleep. You're young and pulsing with life, +and there are--thank Heaven!--few layers of that damnable young-girl +shyness over you. The world would call you primitive, I suppose." + +"But I don't----" + +"Oh, Lord, you must see it's all or nothing! You surely understand that +after I had left you you would not go against your morality, perhaps, +but you would adjust it, in spite of yourself, to meet your desires! I +cannot--safely--kiss you." + +"But you are going away for good!" + +"For good! Child, do you think my going will be your safeguard? If you +wanted me so much that you came to think it was right and good to want +me, wouldn't you find me, send for me, call for me? And I should come. +God! I can see the look in your eyes now, when the want had been +satisfied, and you could not drug your creed any more." + +Her breath came in a long sigh. Then she tried to speak; tried again. + +"It is so, isn't it?" he asked. + +She nodded. Speech was too difficult. With the movement a strand of the +corn-gold hair came tumbling down the side of her face. + +"Then, that being the case," said the man, with infinite gentleness, his +eyes on the little, tumbling lock, "I shall not attempt so much as to +touch your hand before you leave the room." + +At the door she turned. + +"Tell me once again," she said. "You _want_ to kiss me?" + +He gripped the arms of his chair; from where she stood, she could see +the veins standing out on his hands. + +"I want to kiss you," he said fiercely. "I want to kiss you. If there +were any way of cutting off to-morrow--all the to-morrows--with the +danger they hold for us--I would kiss you. I would kiss you, and kiss +you, and kiss you!" + + +II + +Where her feet took her during the thousand, thousand years that was his +going she could never afterwards say; but she found herself at last at +the top of the great building, at an open window, leaning out, with the +rain beating into her eyes. + +Far below her the lights wavered and later she remembered that echoes of +a far-off tumult had reached her as she sat. But her ears held only the +memory of a man's footsteps--the eager tread that had never lingered so +much as a second's space on its way to her; that had often stumbled +slightly on the threshold of her presence; that she had heard and +welcomed in her dreams; that would not come again. + +The raindrops lay like tears upon her face. + +She brushed them aside, and, rising, put up her hands to feel the wet +lying heavy on her hair. The coldness of her limbs surprised her +faintly. Downstairs she went again, the echoes mocking every step. + +She closed the door of the room behind her and idly cleared a scrap of +paper from a chair. Mechanically her hands went to the litter on his +desk and she had straightened it all before she realised that there was +no longer any need. To-morrow would bring a voice she did not know; +would usher a stranger into her room to take her measure from behind a +barrier of formality. For the rest there would be work, and food, and +sleep. + +These things would make life--life that had been love. + +She put on her hat and coat. The room seemed smaller somehow and +shabbier. The shaded lights that had invited, now merely irritated; the +whimsical disorder of books and papers spoke only of an uncompleted +task. Gone was the glamour and the promise and the good comradeship. He +had taken them all. She faced to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow +empty-handed--in her heart the memory of words that had seared and +healed in a breath, and the dead dream of a kiss. Her throat ached with +the pain of it. + +And then suddenly she heard him coming back! + +She stiffened. For one instant, mind and body, she was rigid with the +sheer wonder of it. Then, as the atmosphere of the room surged back, +tense with vitality, her mind leapt forward in welcome. He was coming +back, coming back! The words hammered themselves out to the rhythm of +the eager tread that never lingered so much as a second's space on its +way to her, that stumbled slightly on the threshold of her presence. + +By some queer, reflex twist of memory, her hands brushed imaginary +raindrops from her face and strayed uncertainly to where the wet had +lain on her hair. + +The door opened and closed behind him. + +"I've come back. I've come back to kiss you. Dear--_dear_!" + +Her outflung hand checked him in his stride towards her. Words came +stammering to her lips. + +"Why--but--this isn't--I don't understand! All you said--it was true, +surely? It was cruel of you to make me know it was true and then come +back!" + +"Let me kiss you--let me, let me!" He was overwhelming her, ignoring her +resistance. "I must kiss you, I must kiss you." He said it again and +again. + +"No, no, you shan't--you can't play with me! You said you were afraid +for me, and you made me afraid, too--of my weakness--of the danger--of +my longing for you----" + +"Let me kiss you! Yes, you shall let me; you _shall_ let me." His arms +held her, his face touched hers. + +"Aren't you afraid any more? Has a miracle happened--may we kiss in +spite of to-morrow?" + +Inch by inch she was relaxing. All thought was slipping away into a +great white light that held no to-morrows, nor any fear of them, nor of +herself, nor of anything. The light crept to her feet, rose to her +heart, her head. Through the radiance came his words. + +"Yes, a miracle. Oh, my dear--my little child! I've come back to kiss +you, little child." + +"Kiss me, then," she said against his lips. + + +III + +Hazily she was aware that he had released her; that she had raised her +head; that against the rough tweed of his shoulder there lay a long, +corn-gold hair. + +She laughed shakily and her hand went up to remove it; but he caught her +fingers and held them to his face. And with the movement and his look +there came over her in a wave the shame of her surrender, a shame that +was yet a glory, a diadem of pride. She turned blindly away. + +"Please," she heard herself saying, "let me go now. I want to be alone. +I want to--please don't tell me to-night. To-morrow----" + +She was at the door, groping for the handle. Behind her she heard his +voice; it was very tender. + +"I shall always kneel to you--in your shrine." + +Then she was outside, and the chilly passages were cooling her burning +face. She had left him in the room behind her; and she knew he would +wait there long enough to allow her to leave the building. Almost +immediately, it seemed, she was downstairs in the hall, had reached the +entrance. + +She confronted a group of white-faced, silent men. + +"Why, is anything the matter? What has happened? O'Dell?" + +The porter stood forward. He cleared his throat twice, but for all that, +his words were barely audible. + +"Yes, Miss Carryll. Good-night, miss. You'd best be going on, miss, if +you'll excuse----" + +Behind O'Dell stood a policeman; behind him again, a grave-eyed man +stooped to an unusual task. It arrested her attention like the flash of +red danger. + +"Why is the door of your room being locked, O'Dell?" She knew her +curiosity was indecent, but some powerful premonition was stirring in +her, and she could not pass on. "Has there been an accident? Who is in +there?" + +Then, almost under her feet, she saw a dark pool lying sluggishly +against the tiles; nearer the door another--on the pavement outside +another--and yet another. She gasped, drew back, felt horribly sick; +and, as she turned, she caught O'Dell's muttered aside to the policeman. + +"Young lady's 'is seccereterry--must be the last that seen 'im alive. +All told, 'tain't more'n 'arf-an-'our since 'e left. 'Good-night, +O'Dell,' sez 'e. 'Miss Carryll's still working--don't lock 'er in,' sez +'e. Would 'ave 'is joke. Must 'ave gone round the corner an' slap inter +the car. Wish to God the amberlance----" + +Her cry cut into his words as she flung herself forward. Her fingers +wrenched at the key of the locked door and turned it, in spite of the +detaining hands that seemed light as leaves upon her shoulder, and as +easily shaken off. Unhearing, unheeding, she forced her way into the +glare of electric light flooding the little room--beating down on to the +table and its sheeted burden. Before she reached it, knowledge had +dropped upon her like a mantle. + +Her face was grey as the one from which she drew the merciful coverings, +but her eyes went fearlessly to that which she sought. + +Against the rough tweed of the shoulder lay a long, corn-gold hair. + + + + +VI + +THE GOTH + + +Young Cargill smiled as Mrs. Lardner finished her account. + +"And do you really think that the fact that the poor chap was drowned +had anything to do with it?" he asked. "Why, you admit yourself that he +was known to have been drinking just before he fell out of his boat!" + +"You may say what you like," returned his hostess impressively, "but +since first we came to live at Tryn yr Wylfa only four people besides +poor Roberts have defied the Fates, and each of them was drowned within +the year. + +"They were all tourists," she added with something suspiciously like +satisfaction. + +"I am not a superstitious man myself," supplemented the Major. "But you +can't get away from the facts, you know, Cargill." + +Cargill said no more. He perceived that they had lived long enough in +retirement in the little Welsh village to have acquired a pride in its +legend. + +The legend and the mountains are the two attractions of Tryn yr +Wylfa--the official guidebook devotes an equal amount of space to each. +It will tell you that the bay, across which the quarry's tramp steamers +now sail, was once dry land on which stood a village. Deep in the water +the remains of this village can still be seen in clear weather. But +whosoever dares to look upon them will be drowned within the year. A +local publication gives full details of those who have looked--and +perished. + +The legend had received an unexpected boom in the drowning of Roberts, +which had just occurred. Roberts was a fisherman who had recently come +from the South. One calm day in February he had rowed out into the bay +in fulfilment of a drunken boast. He was drowned three days before +Midsummer. + +After dinner young Cargill forgot about it. He forgot almost everything +except Betty Lardner. But, oddly enough, as he walked back to the hotel +it was just Betty Lardner who made him think again of the legend. He was +in love, and, being very young, wanted to do something insanely heroic. +To defy the Fates by looking on the sunken village was an obvious outlet +for heroism. + +He must have thought a good deal about it before he fell asleep, for he +remembered his resolution on the following morning. + +After breakfast he sauntered along the brief strip of asphalt which the +villagers believe to be a promenade. He was not actually thinking of the +legend; to be precise, he was thinking of Betty Lardner, but he was +suddenly reminded of it by a boatman pressing him for his custom. + +"Yes," he said abruptly. "I will hire your boat if you will row me out +to the sunken village. I want to look at it." + +The Welshman eyed him suspiciously, perceived that he was not joking, +and shook his head. + +"Come," persisted Cargill, "I will make it a sovereign if you care to do +it." + +"Thank you, but indeed, no, sir," replied the Welshman. "Not if it wass +a hundred sofereigns!" + +"Surely you are not afraid?" + +"It iss not fit," retorted the Welshman, turning on his heel. + +It was probably this opposition that made young Cargill decide that it +would be really worth while to defy the legend. + +He did not approach the only other boatman. He considered the question +of swimming. The knowledge that the distance there and back was nearly +five miles did not render the feat impossible, for he was a champion +swimmer. + +But he soon thought of a better way. He went back to the hotel and +sought out Bissett. Bissett was a fellow member of the Middle Temple, as +contentedly briefless as himself. And Bissett possessed a motor-boat. + +Bissett was not exactly keen on the prospect. + +"Don't you think it is rather a silly thing to do?" he reasoned. "Of +course it's all rot in a way--it must be. But isn't it just as well to +treat that sort of thing with respect?" + +Eventually he agreed to take the motor-boat to within a few hundred +yards of the spot. They would tow a dinghy, in which young Cargill could +finish the journey. + +It took young Cargill half-an-hour to find the spot. But he did find it, +and he did look upon, and actually see, all that remained of the sunken +village. + +He felt vaguely ashamed of himself when he returned to dry land. He +noticed that several of the villagers gave him unfriendly glances; and +he resolved that he would say nothing of the matter to the Lardners. + +They were having tea on the lawn when he dropped in. He thought that +Mrs. Lardner's welcome was a trifle chilly. After tea Betty executed a +quite deliberate man[oe]uvre to avoid having him for a partner at +tennis. But he ran her to earth later, when they were picking up the +balls. + +"How _could_ you?" was all she said. + +"I--I didn't know you knew," he stammered weakly. + +"Of course everybody knows! It was all over the village before you +returned. + +"Can't you see what that legend meant to us?" she went on. "It was a +thing of beauty. And now you have spoilt it. It's like burning down the +trees of the Fairy Glen. You--you _Goth_!" + +"But suppose I am drowned before the year is out--like Roberts?" he +suggested jocularly. + +"Then I will forgive you," she said. And to Cargill it sounded exactly +as if she meant what she said. + +A few days later he returned to town. For six months he thought little +about the legend. Then he was reminded of it. + +He had been spending a week-end at Brighton. On the return journey he +had a first-class smoker in the rear of the train to himself. Towards +the end of the hour he dozed and dreamt of the day he had looked on the +sunken village. He was awakened when the train made its usual stop on +the bridge outside Victoria. + +It had been a pleasant dream, and he was still trying to preserve the +illusion when his eye fell lazily on the window, and he noticed that +there was a dense fog. + +"Bit rough on the legend that I happened to be a Londoner!" he mused. +"It isn't easy to drown a man in town!" + +He stood up with the object of removing his dressing-case from the rack. +But before he reached it there was the shriek of a whistle, a violent +shock, and he was hurled heavily into the opposite seat. + +It was not a collision in the newspaper sense of the word. No one was +hurt. A local train, creeping along at four miles an hour, had simply +missed its signal in the fog and bumped the Brighton train. + +Young Cargill, in common with most other passengers put his head out of +the window. He saw nothing--except the parapet of the bridge. + +"By God!" he muttered. "If that other train had been going a little +faster----" + +He could just hear the river gurgling beneath him. + +He had got over his fright by the time he reached Victoria. + +"Just a common-place accident," he assured himself, as he drove in a +taxi-cab to his chambers. "That's the worst of it! If I happened to be +drowned in the ordinary way they'd swear it was the legend. I suppose, +for that reason, I had better not take any risks. Anyhow, I needn't go +near the sea until the year is out!" + +The superstitious would doubtless affirm that the Fates had sent him one +warning and, angered at his refusal to accept it, had determined to +drive home the lesson of his own impotence. For when he arrived at his +chambers he found a cablegram from Paris awaiting him. + +"Hullo, this must be from Uncle Peter!" he exclaimed, as he tore open +the envelope. + +"_Fear uncle dying. Come at once.--Machell._" + +Machell was the elder Cargill's secretary, and young Cargill was the old +man's heir. + +It was not until he was in the boat-train that he realised that he was +about to cross the sea. + +It was a coincidence--an odd coincidence. When the ship tossed in an +unusually rough crossing he was prepared to admit to himself that it was +an uncanny coincidence. + +He stayed a week in Paris for his uncle's funeral. When he made the +return journey the Channel was like the proverbial mill pond. But it was +not until the ship had actually put into Dover that he laughed at the +failure of the Fates to take the opportunity to drown him. + +He laughed, to be exact, as he was stepping down the gangway. At the end +of the gangway the fold of the rug which he was carrying on his arm, +caught in the railings. He turned sharply to free it and stepping back, +cannoned into an officer of the dock. It threw him off his balance on +the edge of the dockside. + +Even if the official had not grabbed him, it is highly probable that he +could have saved himself from falling into the water, because the +gangway railing was in easy reach; and if you remember that he was a +champion swimmer, you will agree that it is still more probable that he +would not have been drowned, even if he had fallen. + +But the incident made its impression. His thoughts reverted to it +constantly during the next few days. Then he told himself that his +attendance at the last rites of his uncle had made him morbid, and was +more or less successful in dismissing the affair from his mind. + +He had many friends in common with the Lardners. Early in February he +was invited for a week's hunting to a house at which Betty Lardner was +also a guest. + +She had not forgotten. She did her best to avoid him, and succeeded +remarkably well, in spite of the fact that their hostess, knowing +something of young Cargill's feelings, made several efforts to throw +them together. + +One day at the end of the hunt he came alongside of her and they walked +their horses home together. When he was sure that they were out of +earshot he asked: + +"You haven't forgiven me yet?" + +"You know the conditions," she replied banteringly. + +"You leave me no alternative to suicide," he protested. + +"That would be cheating," she said. "You must be drowned honestly, or +it's no good." + +Then he made a foolish reply. He thought her humour forced and it +annoyed him. Remember that he was exasperated. He had looked forward to +meeting her, and now she was treating him with studied coldness over +what still seemed to him a comparatively trifling matter. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that that is hardly likely to occur. The fact +of my being a townsman instead of a drunken boatman doesn't give your +legend a fair chance!" + +Less than an hour afterwards he was having his bath before dressing for +dinner. The water was deliciously hot, and the room was full of steam. +As he lay in the bath a drowsiness stole over him. Enjoying the keen +physical pleasure of it, he thought what a wholly delightful thing was a +hot bath after a day's hard hunting. His mind, bordering on sleep, dwelt +lazily on hot baths in general. And then with a startling suddenness +came the thought that, before now, men had been drowned in their baths! + +With a shock he realised that he had almost fallen asleep. He tried to +rouse himself, but a faintness had seized him. That steam--he could not +breathe! He was certain he was going to faint. + +With a desperate effort of the will he hurled himself out of the bath +and threw open the window. + +It must have been the bath episode that first aroused the sensation of +positive fear in Cargill. For it was almost a month later when he +surprised the secretary of that swimming club of which he was the main +pillar by his refusal to take part in any events for the coming season. + +He was beginning to take precautions. + +Late one night, when taxi-cabs were scarce, he found that his quickest +way to reach home would be by means of one of the tubes. He was in the +descending lift when he suddenly remembered that that particular tube +ran beneath the river. Suppose an accident should occur--a leakage! +After all such a thing was within the bounds of possibility. Instantly +there rose before him the vision of a black torrent roaring through the +tunnel. + +Without waiting for the lift to ascend he rushed to the staircase, and +sweating with terror gained the street and bribed a loafer to find him a +cab. + +He made an effort to take himself seriously in hand after that. More +than one acquaintance had lately told him that he was looking "nervy." +In the last few weeks his sane and normal self seemed to have shrunk +within him. But it was still capable of asserting itself under +favourable conditions. It would talk aloud to the rest of him as if to a +separate individual. + +"Look here, old man, this superstitious nonsense is becoming an +obsession to you," it said one fine April morning. "Yes, I mean what I +say--an obsession! You must pull yourself together or you'll go stark +mad, and then you'll probably go and throw yourself over the Embankment. +That legend is all bosh! You're in the twentieth century, and you're not +a drunken fisherman----" + +"Hullo, young Cargill!" + +The door burst open and Stranack, oozing health and sanity, glared at +him. + +"Jove! What a wreck you look!" continued Stranack. "You've been +frousting too much. I'm glad I came. The car's outside, and we'll run +down to Kingston, take a skiff and pull up to Molesey." + +The river! Young Cargill felt the blood singing in his ears. + +"I'm afraid I can't manage it. I--I've got an appointment this +afternoon," he stammered. + +Stranack perceived that he was lying, and wondered. For a few minutes +he gossiped, while young Cargill was repeating to himself: + +"You must pull yourself together. It's becoming an obsession. You must +pull yourself together." + +He was vaguely conscious that Stranack was about to depart. Stranack was +already in the doorway. His chance of killing the obsession was slipping +from him! A special effort and then: + +"Stop!" cried Cargill. "I--I'll come with you, Stranack." + +Oddly enough, he felt much better when they were actually on the river. +He had never been afraid of water, as such. And the familiar scenery, +together with the wholesome exercise of sculling, acted as a tonic to +his nerves. + +They pulled above Molesey lock. When they were returning, Stranack said: + +"You'll take her through the lock, won't you?" + +It was a needless remark, and if Stranack had not made it all might have +been well. As a fact, it set Cargill asking himself why he should not +take her through the lock. He was admitted to be a much better boatman +than Stranack, and everyone knew that it required a certain amount of +skill to manage a lock properly. Locks were dangerous if you played the +fool. Before now people had been drowned in locks. + +The rest was inevitable. He lost his head as the lower gates swung open, +and broke the rule of the river by pushing out in front of a launch. The +launch was already under way, and young Cargill trying to avoid it +better, thrust with his boat-hook at the side of the lock. The thrust +was nervous and ill-calculated, and the next instant the skiff had +blundered under the bows of the launch. + +It happened very quickly. The skiff was forced, broadside on, against +the lock gates, and was splintered like firewood. Cargill fell +backwards, struck his head heavily against the gates--and sank. + +He returned to consciousness in the lock-keeper's lodge. He had been +under water a dangerously long time before Stranack, who had suffered no +more than a wetting, had found him. It had been touch and go for his +life, but artificial respiration had succeeded. + +He soon went to pieces after that. + +From one of the windows of his chambers the river was just visible. One +morning he deliberately pulled the blind down. The action was important. +It signified that he had definitely given up pretending that he had the +power of shaking off the obsession. + +But if he could not shake it off, he could at least keep it temporarily +at bay. He started a guerilla campaign against the obsession with the +aid of the brandy bottle. He was rarely drunk, and as rarely sober. + +He was sober the day he was compelled to call on an aunt who lived in +the still prosperous outskirts of Paddington. It was one of his good +days and, in spite of his sobriety, he had himself in very good control +when he left his aunt. + +In his search for a cab it became necessary for him to cross the canal. +On the bridge he paused and, gripping the parapet, made a surprise +attack upon his enemy. + +Some children, playing on the tow path, helped him considerably. Their +delightful sanity in the presence of the water was worth more to him +than the brandy. He was positively winning the battle, when one of the +children fell into the water. + +For an instant he hesitated. Then, as on the night of the Tube episode, +panic seized him. The next instant the man who was probably the best +amateur swimmer in England, was running with all his might away from the +canal. + +When he reached his chambers he waited, with the assistance of the +brandy, until his man brought him the last edition of the evening paper. +A tiny paragraph on the back sheet told him of the tragedy. + +An hour later his man found him face downwards on the hearthrug and, +wrongly attributing his condition wholly to the brandy, put him to bed. + +He was in bed about three weeks. The doctor, who was also a personal +friend, was shrewd enough to suspect that the brandy was the effect, +rather than the cause of the nerve trouble. + +About the first week in June Cargill was allowed to get up. + +"You've got to go away," said the doctor one morning. "You are probably +aware that your nerves have gone to pieces. The sea is the place for +you!" + +The gasp that followed was scarcely audible, and the doctor missed it. + +"You went to Tryn yr Wylfa about this time last year," continued the +doctor. "Go there again! Go for long walks on the mountains, and put up +at a temperance hotel." + +He went to Tryn yr Wylfa. + +The train journey of six hours knocked him up for another week. By the +time he was strong enough for the promenade it was the fourteenth of +June. He noticed the date on the hotel calendar, and realised that the +Fates had another ten days in which to drown him. + +He did not call on the Lardners. He felt that he couldn't--after the +canal episode. Four of the ten days had passed before Betty Lardner ran +across him on the promenade. + +She noticed at once the change in him, and was kinder than she had ever +been before. + +"Next Saturday," he said, "is the anniversary!" + +For answer she smiled at him, and he might have smiled back if he had +not remembered the canal. + +She met him each morning after that, so that she was with him on the day +when he made his atonement. + +There had been a violent storm in the early morning. It had driven one +of the quarry steamers on to the long sand-bank that lies submerged +between Tryn yr Wylfa and Puffin Island. The gale still lasted, and the +steamer was in momentary danger of becoming a complete wreck. + +There is no lifeboat service at Tryn yr Wylfa. It was impossible to +launch an ordinary boat in such a sea. + +Colonel Denbigh, the owner of the quarry and local magnate, who had been +superintending what feeble efforts had been made to effect a rescue, +answered gloomily when Betty Lardner asked him if there were any hope. + +"It's a terrible thing," he jerked. "First time there has been a wreck +hereabouts. It's hopeless trying to launch a boat----" + +"Suppose a fellow were to swim out to the wreck with a life-line in +tow?" + +It was young Cargill who spoke. + +The Colonel glared at him contemptuously. + +"He would need to be a pretty fine swimmer," he returned. + +"I don't want to blow my own trumpet, but I am considered to be one of +the best amateur swimmers in the country," replied Cargill calmly. "If +you will tell your men to get the line ready, I will borrow a bathing +suit from somewhere." + +They both stared at him in amazement. + +"But you are still an invalid," cried Betty Lardner. "You----" + +She stopped short and regarded him with fresh wonder. Somehow he no +longer looked an invalid. + +Mechanically she walked by his side to the little bathing office. +Suddenly she clutched his arm. + +"Jack," she said, "have you forgotten the--the legend?" + +"Betty," he replied, "have you forgotten the crew?" + +While he was undressing the attendant asked him some trivial question. +He did not hear the man. His thoughts were far away. He was thinking of +a group of children playing on the bank of a canal. + +To the accompaniment of the Colonel's protests they fixed a belt on him, +to which was attached the life-line. + +He walked along the sloping wooden projection that is used as a landing +stage for pleasure skiffs, walked until the water splashed over him. +Then he dived into the boiling surf. + +Thus it was that he earned Betty Lardner's forgiveness. + + + + +VII + +THE LAST ASCENT + + +The extraordinary rapidity with which a successful airman may achieve +fame was well shown in the case of my friend, Radcliffe Thorpe. One week +known merely to a few friends as a clever young engineer, the next his +name was on the lips of the civilised world. His first success was +followed by a series of remarkable feats, of which his flight above the +Atlantic, his race with the torpedo-boat-destroyers across the North +Sea, and his sensational display during the military man[oe]uvres on +Salisbury Plain, impressed his name and personality firmly upon the +fickle mind of the public, and explains the tremendous excitement caused +by his inexplicable disappearance during the great aviation meeting at +Attercliffe, near London, towards the end of the summer. + +Few people, I suppose, have forgotten the facts. For some time +previously he had been devoting himself more especially to ascending to +as great a height as possible. He held all the records for height, and +it was known that at Attercliffe he meant to endeavour to eclipse his +own achievements. + +It was a lovely day, not a breath of wind stirring, not a cloud in the +sky. We saw him start. We saw him fly up and up in great sweeping +spirals. We saw him climb higher and ever higher into the azure space. +We watched him, those of us whose eyes could bear the strain, as he +dwindled to a dot and a speck, till at last he passed beyond sight. + +It was a stirring thing to see a man thus storm, as it were, the walls +of Heaven and probe the very mysteries of space. I remember I felt quite +annoyed with someone who was taking a cinematograph record. It seemed +such a sordid, business-like thing to be doing at such a moment. + +Presently the aeroplane came into sight again and was greeted with a +sudden roar of cheering. + +"He is doing a glide down," someone cried excitedly, and though someone +else declared that a glide from such a height was unthinkable and +impossible, yet it was soon plain that the first speaker was right. + +Down through unimaginable thousands of feet, straight and swift swept +the machine, making such a sweep as the eagle in its pride would never +have dared. People held their breath to watch, expecting every moment +some catastrophe. But the machine kept on an even keel, and in a few +moments I joined with the others in a wild rush to the field at a little +distance where the machine, like a mighty bird, had alighted easily and +safely. + +But when we reached it we doubted our own eyes, our own sanity. There +was no sign anywhere of Radcliffe Thorpe! + +No one knew what to say; we looked blankly at our neighbours, and one +man got down on his hands and knees and peered under the body of the +machine as if he suspected Radcliffe of hiding there. Then the chairman +of the meeting, Lord Fallowfield, made a curious discovery. + +"Look," he said in a high, shaken voice, "the steering wheel is jammed!" + +It was true. The steering wheel had been carefully fastened in one +position, and the lever controlling the planes had also been fixed so as +to hold them at the right angle for a downward glide. That was strange +enough, but in face of the mystery of Radcliffe's disappearance little +attention was paid it. + +Where, then, was its pilot? That was the question that was filling +everybody's mind. He had vanished as utterly as vanishes the mist one +sees rising in the sunshine. + +It was supposed he must have fallen from his seat, but as to how that +had happened, how it was that no fragment of his body or his clothing +was ever found, above all, how it was that his aeroplane had returned, +the engine cut off, the planes secured in correct position, no even +moderately plausible explanation was ever put forward. + +The loss to aeronautics was felt to be severe. From childhood Radcliffe +had shown that, in addition to this, he had a marked aptitude for +drawing, usually held at the service of his profession, but now and +again exercised in producing sketches of his friends. + +Among those who knew him privately he was fairly popular, though not, +perhaps, so much so as he deserved; certainly he had a way of talking +"shop" which was a trifle tiring to those who did not figure the world +as one vast engineering problem, while with women he was apt to be +brusque and short-mannered. + +My surprise, then, can be imagined when, calling one afternoon on him +and having to wait a little, I had noticed lying on his desk a crayon +sketch of a woman's face. It was a very lovely face, the features almost +perfect, and yet there was about it something unearthly and spectral +that was curiously disturbing. + +"Smitten at last?" I asked jestingly, and yet aware of a certain odd +discomfort. + +When, he saw what I was looking at he went very pale. + +"Who is it?" I asked. + +"Oh, just--someone!" he answered. + +He took the sketch from me, looked at it, frowned and locked it away. As +he seemed unwilling to pursue the subject, I went on to talk of the +business I had come about, and I congratulated him on his flight of the +day before in which he had broken the record for height. As I was going +he said: + +"By the way, that sketch--what did you think of it?" + +"Why, that you had better be careful," I answered, laughing; "or you'll +be falling from your high estate of bachelordom." + +He gave so violent a start, his face expressed so much of apprehension +and dismay, that I stared at him blankly. Recovering himself with an +effort, he stammered out: + +"It's not--I mean--it's an imaginary portrait." + +"Then," I said, amazed in my turn, "you've a jolly sight more +imagination than anyone ever credited you with." + +The incident remained in my mind. As a matter of fact, practical +Radcliffe Thorpe, absorbed in questions of strain and ease, his head +full of cylinders and wheels and ratchets and the Lord knows what else, +would have seemed to me the last man on earth to create that haunting, +strange, unearthly face, human in form, but not in expression. + +It was about this time that Radcliffe began to give so much attention to +the making of very high flights. His favourite time was in the early +morning, as soon as it was light. Then in the chill dawn he would rise +and soar and wing his flight high and ever higher, up and up, till the +eye could no longer follow his ascent. + +I remember he made one of these strange, solitary flights when I was +spending the week-end with him at his cottage near the Attercliffe +Aviation Grounds. + +I had come down from town somewhat late the night before, and I remember +that just before we went to bed we went out for a few minutes to enjoy +the beauty of a perfect night. The moon was shining in a clear sky, not +a sound or a breath disturbed the sublime quietude; in the south one +wondrous star gleamed low on the horizon. Neither of us spoke; it was +enough to drink in the beauty of such rare perfection, and I noticed how +Radcliffe kept his eyes fixed upwards on the dark blue vault of space. + +"Are you longing to be up there?" I asked him jestingly. + +He started and flushed, and he then went very pale, and to my surprise I +saw that he was shivering. + +"You are getting cold," I said. "We had better go in." + +He nodded without answering, and, as we turned to go in, I heard quite +plainly and distinctly a low, strange laugh, a laugh full of a honeyed +sweetness that yet thrilled me with great fear. + +"What's that?" I said, stopping short. + +"What?" Radcliffe asked. + +"Someone laughed," I said, and I stared all round and then upwards. "I +thought it came from up there," I said in a bewildered way, pointing +upwards. + +He gave me an odd look and, without answering, went into the cottage. He +had said nothing of having planned any flight for the next morning; but +in the early morning, the chill and grey dawn, I was roused by the +drumming of his engine. At once I jumped up out of bed and ran to the +window. + +The machine was raising itself lightly and easily from the ground. I +watched him wing his god-like way up through the still, soft air till he +was lost to view. Then, after a time, I saw him emerge again from those +immensities of space. He came down in one long majestic sweep, and +alighted in a field a little way away from the house, leaving the +aeroplane for his mechanics to fetch up presently. + +"Hullo!" I greeted him. "Why didn't you tell me you were going up?" + +As I spoke I heard plainly and distinctly, as plainly as ever I heard +anything in my life, that low, strange laugh, that I had heard before, +so silvery sweet and yet somehow so horrible. + +"What's that?" I said, stopping short and staring blankly upwards, for, +absurd though it seems, that weird sound seemed to come floating down +from an infinite height above us. + +"Not high enough," he muttered like a man in an ecstasy. "Not high +enough yet." + +He walked away from me then without another word. When I entered the +cottage he was seated at the table sketching a woman's face--the same +face I had seen in that other sketch of his, spectral, unreal, and +lovely. + +"What on earth----?" I began. + +"Nothing on earth," he answered in a strange voice. Then he laughed and +jumped up, and tore his sketch across. + +He seemed quite his old self again, chatty and pleasant, and with his +old passion for talking "shop." He launched into a long explanation of +some scheme he had in mind for securing automatic balancing. + +I never told anyone about that strange, mocking laugh, in fact, I had +almost forgotten the incident altogether when something brought every +detail back to my memory. I had a letter from a person who signed +himself "George Barnes." + +Barnes, it seemed, was the operator who had taken the pictures of that +last ascent, and as he understood I had been Mr. Thorpe's greatest +friend, he wanted to see me. Certain expressions in the letter aroused +my curiosity. I replied. He asked for an appointment at a time that was +not very convenient, and finally I arranged to call at his house one +evening. + +It was one of those smart little six-room villas of which so many have +been put up in the London suburbs of late. Barnes was buying it on the +instalment system, and I quite won his heart by complimenting him on it. +But for that, I doubt if anything would have come of my visit, for he +was plainly nervous and ill at ease and very repentant of ever having +said anything. But after my compliment to the house we got on better. + +"It's on my mind," he said; "I shan't be easy till someone else knows." + +We were in the front room where a good fire was burning--in my honour, I +guessed, for the apartment had not the air of being much used. On the +table were some photographs. Barnes showed them me. They were +enlargements from those he had taken of poor Radcliffe's last ascent. + +"They've been shown all over the world," he said. "Millions of people +have seen them." + +"Well?" I said. + +"But there's one no one has seen--no one except me." + +He produced another print and gave it to me. I glanced at it. It seemed +much like the others, having been apparently one of the last of the +series, taken when the aeroplane was at a great height. The only thing +in which it differed from the others was that it seemed a trifle +blurred. + +"A poor one," I said; "it's misty." + +"Look at the mist," he said. + +I did so. Slowly, very slowly, I began to see that that misty appearance +had a shape, a form. Even as I looked I saw the features of a human +countenance--and yet not human either, so spectral was it, so unreal and +strange. I felt the blood run cold in my veins and the hair bristle on +the scalp of my head, for I recognised beyond all doubt that this face +on the photograph was the same as that Radcliffe had sketched. The +resemblance was absolute, no one who had seen the one could mistake the +other. + +"You see it?" Barnes muttered, and his face was almost as pale as mine. + +"There's a woman," I stammered, "a woman floating in the air by his +side. Her arms are held out to him." + +"Yes," Barnes said. "Who was she?" + +The print slipped from my hands and fluttered to the ground. Barnes +picked it up and put it in the fire. Was it fancy or, as it flared up, +and burnt and was consumed, did I really hear a faint laugh floating +downwards from the upper air? + +"I destroyed the negative," Barnes said, "and I told my boss something +had gone wrong with it. No one has seen that photograph but you and me, +and now no one ever will." + + + + +VIII + +THE TERROR BY NIGHT + + +Maynard disincumbered himself from his fishing-creel, stabbed the butt +of his rod into the turf, and settled down in the heather to fill a +pipe. All round him stretched the undulating moor, purple in the late +summer sunlight. To the southward, low down, a faint haze told where the +sea lay. The stream at his feet sang its queer, crooning moor-song as it +rambled onward, chuckling to meet a bed of pebbles somewhere out of +sight, whispering mysteriously to the rushes that fringed its banks of +peat, deepening to a sudden contralto as it poured over granite boulders +into a scum-flecked pool below. + +For a long time the man sat smoking. Occasionally he turned his head to +watch with keen eyes the fretful movements of a fly hovering above the +water. Then a sudden dimple in the smooth surface of the stream arrested +his attention. A few concentric ripples widened, travelled towards him, +and were absorbed in the current. His lips curved into a little smile +and he reached for his rod. In the clear water he could see the origin +of the ripples; a small trout, unconscious of his presence, was waiting +in its hover for the next tit-bit to float downstream. Presently it rose +again. + +"The odds are ten to one in your favour," said the man. "Let's see!" + +He dropped on one knee and the cast leapt out in feathery coils. Once, +twice it swished; the third time it alighted like thistledown on the +surface. There was a tiny splash, a laugh, and the little greenheart +rod flicked a trout high over his head. It was the merest +baby--half-an-ounce, perhaps--and it fell from the hook into the herbage +some yards from the stream. + +"Little ass!" said Maynard. "That was meant for your big brother." + +He recovered his cast and began to look for his victim. Without avail he +searched the heather, and as the fateful seconds sped, at last laid down +his rod and dropped on hands and knees to probe among the grass-stems. + +For a while he hunted in vain, then the sunlight showed a golden sheen +among some stones. Maynard gave a grunt of relief, but as his hand +closed round it a tiny flutter passed through the fingerling; it gave a +final gasp and was still. Knitting his brows in almost comical vexation, +he hastened to restore it to the stream, holding it by the tail and +striving to impart a life-like wriggle to its limpness. + +"Buck up, old thing!" he murmured encouragingly. "Oh, buck up! You're +all right, really you are!" + +But the "old thing" was all wrong. In fact, it was dead. + +Standing in the wet shingle, Maynard regarded the speckled atom as it +lay in the palm of his hand. + +"A matter of seconds, my son. One instant in all eternity would have +made just the difference between life and death to you. And the high +gods denied it you!" + +On the opposite side of the stream, set back about thirty paces from the +brink, stood a granite boulder. It was as high as a man's chest, roughly +cubical in shape; but the weather and clinging moss had rounded its +edges, and in places segments had crumbled away, giving foothold to +clumps of fern and starry moor-flowers. On three sides the surrounding +ground rose steeply, forming an irregular horseshoe mound that opened to +the west. Perhaps it was the queer amphitheatrical effect of this +setting that connected up some whimsical train of thought in Maynard's +brain. + +"It would seem as if the gods had claimed you," he mused, still holding +the corpse. "You shall be a sacrifice--a burnt sacrifice to the God of +Waste Places." + +He laughed at the conceit, half-ashamed of his own childishness, and +crossing the stream by some boulders, he brushed away the earth and weed +from the top of the great stone. Then he retraced his steps and gathered +a handful of bleached twigs that the winter floods had left stranded +along the margin of the stream. These he arranged methodically on the +cleared space; on the top of the tiny pyre he placed the troutlet. + +"There!" he said, and smiling gravely struck a match. A faint column of +smoke curled up into the still air, and as he spoke the lower rim of the +setting sun met the edge of the moor. The evening seemed suddenly to +become incredibly still, even the voice of the stream ceasing to be a +sound distinct. A wagtail bobbing in the shallows fled into the waste. +Overhead the smoke trembled upwards, a faint stain against a cloudless +sky. The stillness seemed almost acute. It was as if the moor were +waiting, and holding its breath while it waited. Then the twigs upon his +altar crackled, and the pale flames blazed up. The man stepped back with +artistic appreciation of the effect. + +"To be really impressive, there ought to be more smoke," he continued. + +Round the base of the stone were clumps of small flowers. They were +crimson in colour and had thick, fleshy leaves. Hastily, he snatched a +handful and piled it on the fire. The smoke darkened and rose in a thick +column; there was a curious pungency in the air. + +Far off the church-bell in some unseen hamlet struck the hour. The +distant sound, coming from the world of men and every-day affairs, +seemed to break the spell. An ousel fluttered across the stream and +dabbled in a puddle among some stones. Rabbits began to show themselves +and frisk with lengthened shadows in the clear spaces. Maynard looked at +his watch, half-mindful of a train to be caught somewhere miles away, +and then, held by the peace of running water, stretched himself against +the sloping ground. + +The glowing world seemed peopled by tiny folk, living out their timid, +inscrutable lives around him. A water-rat, passing bright-eyed upon his +lawful occasion, paused on the border of the stream to consider the +stranger, and was lost to view. A stagnant pool among some reeds caught +the reflection of the sunset and changed on the instant into raw gold. + +Maynard plucked a grass stem and chewed it reflectively, staring out +across the purple moor and lazily watching the western sky turn from +glory to glory. Over his head the smoke of the sacrifice still curled +and eddied upwards. Then a sudden sound sent him on to one elbow--the +thud of an approaching horse's hoofs. + +"Moor ponies!" he muttered, and, rising, stood expectant beside his +smoking altar. + +Then he heard the sudden jingle of a bit, and presently a horse and +rider climbed into view against the pure sky. A young girl, breeched, +booted and spurred like a boy, drew rein, and sat looking down into the +hollow. + +For a moment neither spoke; then Maynard acknowledged her presence by +raising his tweed hat. She gave a little nod. + +"I thought it was somebody swaling--burning the heather." She considered +the embers on the stone, and then her grey eyes travelled back to the +spare, tweed-clad figure beside it. + +He smiled in his slow way--a rather attractive smile. + +"No. I've just concluded some pagan rites in connection with a small +trout!" He nodded gravely at the stone. "That was a burnt sacrifice." +With whimsical seriousness he told her of the trout's demise and high +destiny. + +For a moment she looked doubtful; but the inflection of breeding in his +voice, the wholesome, lean face and humorous eyes, reassured her. A +smile hovered about the corners of her mouth. + +"Oh, is that it? I wondered ..." + +She gathered the reins and turned her horse's head. + +"Forgive me if I dragged you out of your way," said Maynard, never swift +to conventionality, but touched by the tired shadows in her eyes. The +faint droop of her mouth, too, betrayed intense fatigue. "You look +fagged. I don't want to be a nuisance or bore you, but I wish you'd let +me offer you a sandwich. I've some milk here, too." + +The girl looked round the ragged moor, brooding in the twilight, and +half hesitated. Then she forced a wan little smile. + +"I am tired, and hungry, too. Have you enough for us both?" + +"Lots!" said Maynard. To himself he added: "And what's more, my child, +you'll have a little fainting affair in a few minutes, if you don't have +a feed." + +"Come and rest for a minute," he continued aloud. + +He spoke with pleasant, impersonal kindliness, and as he turned to his +satchel she slipped out of the saddle and came towards him, leading her +horse. + +"Drink that," he said, holding out the cup of his flask. She drank with +a wry little face, and coughed. "I put a little whisky in it," he +explained. "You needed it." + +She thanked him and sat down with the bridle linked over her arm. The +colour crept back into her cheeks. Maynard produced a packet of +sandwiches and a pasty. + +"I've been mooning about the moor all the afternoon and lost myself +twice," she explained between frank mouthfuls. "I'm hopelessly late for +dinner, and I've still got miles to go." + +"Do you know the way now?" he asked. + +"Oh, yes! It won't take me long. My family are sensible, too, and don't +fuss." She looked at him, her long-lashed eyes a little serious. "But +you--how are you going to get home? It's getting late to be out on the +moor afoot." + +Maynard laughed. + +"Oh, I'm all right, thanks!" He sniffed the warm September night. "I +think I shall sleep here, as a matter of fact. I'm a gipsy by instinct-- + + "'Give to me the life I love, + Let the lave go by me, + Give the jolly Heaven above----'" + +He broke off, arrested by her unsmiling eyes. She was silent a moment. + +"People don't as a rule sleep out--about here." The words came jerkily, +as if she were forcing a natural tone into her voice. + +"No?" He was accustomed to being questioned on his unconventional mode +of life, and was prepared for the usual expostulations. She looked +abruptly towards him. + +"Are you superstitious?" + +He laughed and shook his head. + +"I don't think so. But what has that got to do with it?" + +She hesitated, flushing a little. + +"There is a legend--people about here say that the moor here is haunted. +There is a Thing that hunts people to death!" + +He laughed outright, wondering how old she was. Seventeen or eighteen, +perhaps. She had said her people "didn't fuss." That meant she was left +to herself to pick up all these old wives' tales. + +"Really! Has anyone been caught?" + +She nodded, unsmiling. + +"Yes; old George Toms. He was one of Dad's tenants, a big purple-faced +man, who drank a lot and never took much exercise. They found him in a +ditch with his clothes all torn and covered with mud. He had been run to +death; there was no wound on his body, but his heart was broken." Her +thoughts recurred to the stone against which they leant, and his quaint +conceit. "You were rather rash to go offering burnt sacrifices about +here, don't you think? Dad says that stone is the remains of an old +Ph[oe]nician altar, too." + +She was smiling now, but the seriousness lingered in her eyes. + +"And I have probably invoked some terrible heathen deity--Ashtoreth, or +Pugm, or Baal! How awful!" he added, with mock gravity. + +The girl rose to her feet. + +"You are laughing at me. The people about here are superstitious, and I +am a Celt, too. I belong here." + +He jumped up with a quick protest. + +"No, I'm not laughing at you. Please don't think that! But it's a little +hard to believe in active evil when all around is so beautiful." He +helped her to mount and walked to the top of the mound at her stirrup. +"Tell me, is there any charm or incantation, in case----?" His eyes were +twinkling, but she shook her fair head soberly. + +"They say iron--cold iron--is the only thing it cannot cross. But I must +go!" She held out her hand with half-shy friendliness. "Thank you for +your niceness to me." Her eyes grew suddenly wistful. "Really, though, I +don't think I should stay there if I were you. Please!" + +He only laughed, however, and she moved off, shaking her impatient +horse into a canter. Maynard stood looking after her till she was +swallowed by the dusk and surrounding moor. Then, thoughtfully, he +retraced his steps to the hollow. + + * * * * * + +A cloud lay across the face of the moon when Fear awoke Maynard. He +rolled on to one elbow and stared round the hollow, filled with +inexplicable dread. He was ordinarily a courageous man, and had no +nerves to speak of; yet, as his eyes followed the line of the ridge +against the sky, he experienced terror, the elementary, nauseating +terror of childhood, when the skin tingles, and the heart beats at a +suffocating gallop. It was very dark, but momentarily his eyes grew +accustomed to it. He was conscious of a queer, pungent smell, horribly +animal and corrupt. + +Suddenly the utter silence broke. He heard a rattle of stones, the +splash of water about him, realised that it was the brook beneath his +feet, and that he, Maynard, was running for his life. + +Neither then nor later did Reason assert herself. He ran without +question or amazement. His brain--the part where human reasoning holds +normal sway--was dominated by the purely primitive instinct of flight. +And in that sudden rout of courage and self-respect one conscious +thought alone remained. Whatever it was that was even then at his heels, +he must not see it. At all costs it must be behind him, and, resisting +the sudden terrified impulse to look over his shoulder, he unbuttoned +his tweed jacket and disengaged himself from it as he ran. The faint +haze that had gathered round the full moon dispersed, and he saw the +moor stretching before him, grey and still, glistening with dew. + +He was of frugal and temperate habits, a wiry man at the height of his +physical powers, with lean flanks and a deep chest. + +At Oxford they had said he was built to run for his life. He was running +for it now, and he knew it. + +The ground sloped upwards after a while, and he tore up the incline, +breathing deep and hard; down into a shallow valley, leaping gorse +bushes, crashing through whortle and meadowsweet, stumbling over +peat-cuttings and the workings of forgotten tin-mines. An idiotic +popular tune raced through his brain. He found himself trying to frame +the words, but they broke into incoherent prayers, still to the same +grotesque tune. + +Then, as he breasted the flank of a boulder-strewn tor, he seemed to +hear snuffling breathing behind him, and, redoubling his efforts, +stepped into a rabbit hole. He was up and running again in the twinkling +of an eye, limping from a twisted ankle as he ran. + +He sprinted over the crest of the hill and thought he heard the sound +almost abreast of him, away to the right. In the dry bed of a +watercourse some stones were dislodged and fell with a rattle in the +stillness of the night; he bore away to the left. A moment later there +was Something nearly at his left elbow, and he smelt again the nameless, +f[oe]tid reek. He doubled, and the ghastly truth flashed upon him. The +Thing was playing with him! He was being hunted for sport--the sport of +a horror unthinkable. The sweat ran down into his eyes. + +He lost all count of time; his wrist watch was smashed on his wrist. He +ran through a reeling eternity, sobbing for breath, stumbling, tripping, +fighting a leaden weariness; and ever the same unreasoning terror urged +him on. The moon and ragged skyline swam about him; the blood drummed +deafeningly in his ears, and his eyeballs felt as if they would burst +from their sockets. He had nearly bitten his swollen tongue in two +falling over an unseen peat-cutting, and blood-flecked foam gathered on +his lips. + +God, how he ran! But he was no longer among bog and heather. He was +running--shambling now--along a road. The loping pursuit of that +nameless, shapeless Something sounded like an echo in his head. + +He was nearing a village, but saw nothing save a red mist that swam +before him like a fog. The road underfoot seemed to rise and fall in +wavelike undulations. Still he ran, with sobbing gasps and limbs that +swerved under his weight; at his elbow hung death unnamable, and the +fear of it urged him on while every instinct of his exhausted body +called out to him to fling up his hands and end it. + +Out of the mist ahead rose the rough outline of a building by the +roadside; it was the village smithy, half workshop, half dwelling. The +road here skirted a patch of grass, and the moonlight, glistening on the +dew, showed the dark circular scars of the turf where, for a generation, +the smith's peat fires had heated the great iron hoops that tyred the +wheels of the wains. One of these was even then lying on the ground with +the turves placed in readiness for firing in the morning, and in the +throbbing darkness of Maynard's consciousness a voice seemed to speak +faintly--the voice of a girl: + +"_There's a Thing that hunts people to death. But iron--cold iron--it +cannot cross._" + +The sweat of death was already on his brow as he reeled sideways, +plunging blindly across the uneven tufts of grass. His feet caught in +some obstruction and he pitched forward into the sanctuary of the huge +iron tyre--a spasm of cramp twisting his limbs up under him. + +As he fell a great blackness rose around him, and with it the bewildered +clamour of awakened dogs. + + * * * * * + +Dr. Stanmore came down the flagged path from the smith's cottage, +pulling on his gloves. A big car was passing slowly up the village +street, and as it came abreast the smithy the doctor raised his hat. + +The car stopped, and the driver, a fair-haired girl, leant sideways from +her seat. + +"Good-morning, Dr. Stanmore! What's the matter here? Nothing wrong with +any of Matthew's children, is there?" + +The Doctor shook his head gravely. + +"No, Lady Dorothy; they're all at school. This is no one belonging to +the family--a stranger who was taken mysteriously ill last night just +outside the forge, and they brought him in. It's a most queer case, and +very difficult to diagnose--that is to say, to give a diagnosis in +keeping with one's professional--er--conscience." + +The girl switched off the engine, and took her hand from the +brake-lever. Something in the doctor's manner arrested her interest. + +"What is the matter with him?" she queried. "What diagnosis have you +made, professional or otherwise?" + +"Shock, Lady Dorothy; severe exhaustion and shock, heart strained, +superficial lesions, bruises, scratches, and so forth. Mentally he is in +a great state of excitement and terror, lapsing into delirium at +times--that is really the most serious feature. In fact, unless I can +calm him I am afraid we may have some brain trouble on top of the other +thing. It's most mysterious!" + +The girl nodded gravely, holding her underlip between her white teeth. + +"What does he look like--in appearance, I mean? Is he young?" + +The shadow of a smile crossed the doctor's eyes. + +"Yes, Lady Dorothy--quite young, and very good-looking. He is a man of +remarkable athletic build. He is calmer now, and I have left Matthew's +wife with him while I slip out to see a couple of other patients." + +Lady Dorothy rose from her seat and stepped down out of the car. + +"I think I know your patient," she said. "In fact, I had taken the car +to look for him, to ask him to lunch with us. Do you think I might see +him for a minute? If it is the person I think it is I may be able to +help you diagnose his illness." + +Together they walked up the path and entered the cottage. The doctor led +the way upstairs and opened a door. A woman sitting by the bed rose and +dropped a curtsey. + +Lady Dorothy smiled a greeting to her and crossed over to the bed. +There, his face grey and drawn with exhaustion, with shadows round his +closed eyes, lay Maynard; one hand lying on the counterpane opened and +closed convulsively, his lips moved. The physician eyed the girl +interrogatively. + +"Do you know him?" he asked. + +She nodded, and put her firm, cool hand over the twitching fingers. + +"Yes," she said. "And I warned him. Tell me, is he very ill?" + +"He requires rest, careful nursing, absolute quiet----" + +"All that he can have at the Manor," said the girl softly. She met the +doctor's eyes and looked away, a faint colour tingeing her cheeks. "Will +you go and telephone to father? I will take him back in the car now if +he is well enough to be moved." + +"Yes, he is well enough to be moved," said the doctor. "It is very kind +of you, Lady Dorothy, and I will go and telephone at once. Will you stay +with him for a little while?" + +He left the room, and they heard his feet go down the narrow stairs. The +cottage door opened and closed. + +The two women, the old and the young, peasant and peer's daughter, +looked at each other, and there was in their glance that complete +understanding which can only exist between women. + +"Do 'ee mind old Jarge Toms, my lady?" + +Lady Dorothy nodded. + +"I know, I know! And I warned him! They won't believe, these men! They +think because they are so big and strong that there is nothing that can +hurt them." + +"'Twas th' iron that saved un, my lady. 'Twas inside one of John's new +tyres as was lyin' on the ground that us found un. Dogs barkin' wakened +us up. But it'd ha' had un, else----" A sound downstairs sent her flying +to the door. "'Tis the kettle, my lady. John's dinner spilin', an' I +forgettin'." + +She hurried out of the room and closed the door. + +The sound of their voices seemed to have roused the occupant of the bed. +His eyelids fluttered and opened; his eyes rested full on the girl's +face. For a moment there was no consciousness in their gaze; then a +whimsical ghost of a smile crept about his mouth. + +"Go on," he said in a weak voice. "Say it!" + +"Say what?" asked Lady Dorothy. She was suddenly aware that her hand was +still on his, but the twitching fingers had closed about hers in a calm, +firm grasp. + +"Say 'I told you so'!" + +She shook her head with a little smile. + +"I told you that cold iron----" + +"Cold iron saved me." He told her of the iron hoop on the ground outside +the forge. "You saved me last night." + +She disengaged her hand gently. + +"I saved you last night--since you say so. But in future----" + +Someone was coming up the stairs. Maynard met her eyes with a long look. + +"I have no fear," he said. "I have found something better than cold +iron." + +The door opened and the doctor came in. He glanced at Maynard's face and +touched his pulse. + +"The case is yours, Lady Dorothy!" he said with a little bow. + + + + +IX + +THE TRAGEDY AT THE "LOUP NOIR" + + +The Boy at the corner of the table flicked the ash of his cigar into the +fire. + +"Spiritualism is all rot!" he declared. + +"I don't know," the Host reflected thoughtfully. "One hears queer +stories sometimes." + +"Which reminds me----" started the Bore. + +But before he could proceed any further the little French Judge +ruthlessly cut him short. + +"Bah!" Contempt and geniality were mingled in his tone. "Who are we, +poor ignorant worms, that we should dare to say 'is' or 'is not'? Your +Shakespeare, he was right! 'There are more things in heaven and earth, +Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy!'" + +The faces of the four Englishmen instantly assumed that peculiarly +stolid expression always called forth by the mention of Shakespeare. + +"But Spiritualism----" started the Host. + +Again the little French Judge broke in: + +"I who you speak, I myself know of an experience, of the most +remarkable, to this day unexplained save by Spiritualism, Occultism, +what you will! You shall hear! The case is one I conducted +professionally some two years ago, though, of course, the events which I +now tell in their proper sequence, came out only in the trial. I string +them together for you, yes?" + +The Bore, who fiercely resented any stories except his own, gave vent to +a discontented grunt; the other three prepared to listen carefully. From +the drawing-room, whither the ladies had retired after dinner, sounded +the far-away strains of a piano. The little French Judge held out his +glass for a creme de menthe; his eyes were sparkling with suppressed +excitement; he gazed deep into the shining green liquid as if seeing +therein a moving panorama of pictures, then he began: + +On a dusky autumn evening, a young man, tall, olive-skinned, tramps +along the road leading from Paris to Longchamps. He is walking with a +quick, even swing. Now and again a hidden anxiety darkens his face. + +Suddenly he branches off to the left; the path here is steep and muddy. +He stops in front of a blurred circle of yellow light; by this can one +faintly perceive the outlines of a building. Above the narrow doorway +hangs a creaking sign which announces to all it may concern that this is +the "Loup Noir," much sought after for its nearness to the racecourse +and for its excellent _menage_. + +"_Voila!_" mutters our friend. + +On entering, he is met by the burly innkeeper, a shrewd enough fellow, +who has seen something of life before settling down in Longchamps. The +young man glances past him as if seeking some other face, then +recollecting himself demands shelter for the night. + +"I greatly fear----" began the innkeeper, then pauses, struck by an +idea. "Hola, Gaston! Have monsieur and madame from number fourteen yet +departed?" + +"Yes, monsieur; already early this morning; you were at the market, so +Mademoiselle settled the bill." + +"Mademoiselle Jehane?" the stranger looks up sharply. + +"My niece, monsieur; you have perhaps heard of her, for I see by your +easel you are an artist. She is supposed to be of a rare beauty; I think +it myself." Jean Potin keeps up a running flow of talk as he conducts +his visitor down the long bare passages, past blistered yellow doors. + +"It is a double room I must give you, vacated, as you heard, but this +very morning. They were going to stay longer, Monsieur and Madame +Guillaumet, but of a sudden she changed her mind. Oh, she was of a +temper!" Potin raises expressive eyes heavenwards. "It is ever so when +May weds with December." + +"He was much older than his wife, then?" queries the artist, politely +feigning an interest he is far from feeling. + +"_Mais non, parbleu!_ It was she who was the older--by some fifteen +years; and not a beauty. But rich--he knew what he was about, giving his +smooth cheek for her smooth louis!" + +Left alone, Lou Arnaud proceeds to unpack his knapsack; he lingers over +it as long as possible; the task awaiting him below is no pleasant one. +Finally he descends. The small smoky _salle a manger_ is full of people. +There is much talk and laughter going on; the clatter of knives and +forks. At the desk near the door, a young girl is busy with the +accounts. Her very pale gold hair, parted and drawn loosely back over +the ears, casts a faint shadow on her pure, white skin. Arnaud, as he +chooses a seat, looks at her critically. + +"Bah, she is insignificant!" he thinks. "What can have possessed +Claude?" + +Suddenly she raises her eyes. They meet his in a long, steady gaze. Then +once again the lids are lowered. + +The artist sets down his glass with a hand that shakes. He is not +imaginative, as a rule, but when one sees the soul of a mocking devil +look out, dark and compelling, from the face of a Madonna, one is +disconcerted. + +He wonders no more what had possessed Claude. On his way to the door a +few moments later, he pauses at her desk. + +"Monsieur wishes to order breakfast for to-morrow morning?" + +"Monsieur wishes to speak with you." + +She smiles demurely. Many have wished to speak with her. Arnaud divines +her thoughts. + +"My name is Lou Arnaud!" he adds meaningly. + +"Ah!" she ponders on this for an instant; then: "It is a warm night; if +you will seat yourself at one of the little tables in the courtyard at +the back of the house, I will try to join you, when these pigs have +finished feeding." She indicates with contempt the noisily eating crowd. + +They sit long at that table, for the man has much to tell of his young +brother Claude; of the ruin she has made of his life; of the little +green devils that lurk in a glass of absinthe, and clutch their victim, +and drag him down deeper, ever deeper, into the great, green abyss. + +But she only laughs, this Jehane of the wanton eyes. + +"But what do you want from me? I have no need of this Claude. He +wearies me--now!" + +Arnaud springs to his feet, catching her roughly by the wrist. He loves +his young brother much. His voice is raised, attracting the notice of +two or three groups who take coffee at the iron tables. + +"You had need of him once. You never left him in peace till you had +sucked him of all that makes life good. If I could----" + +Jean Potin appears in the doorway. + +"Jehane, what are you doing out here? You know I do not permit it that +you speak with the visitors. Pardon her, monsieur, she is but a child." + +"A child?" The artist's brow is black as thunder. "She has wrecked a +life, this child you speak of!" + +He strides past the amazed innkeeper, up the narrow flight of stairs, +and down the passage to his room. + +Sitting on the edge of the huge curtained four-poster bed, he ponders on +the events of the evening. + +But his thoughts are not all of Claude. That girl--that girl with her +pale face and her pale hair, and eyes the grey of a storm cloud before +it breaks, she haunts him! Her soft murmuring voice has stolen into his +brain; he hears it in the drip, drip of the rain on the sill outside. + +Soon heavy feet are heard trooping up the stairs; doors are heard to +bang; cheery voices wish each other good-night. Then gradually the +sounds die away. They keep early hours at the "Loup Noir"; it is not yet +ten o'clock. + +Still Arnaud remains sitting on the edge of the bed; the dark plush +canopy overhead repels him, he does not feel inclined for sleep. +Jehane! what a picture she would make! He _must_ paint her! + +Obsessed by this idea, he unpacks a roll of canvas, spreads it on the +tripod easel, and prepares crayons and charcoal; he will start the +picture as soon as it is day. He will paint her as Circe, mocking at her +grovelling herd of swine! + +He creeps into bed and falls asleep. + + * * * * * + +Softly the rain patters against the window-pane. + +A distant clock booms out eleven strokes. + +Lou Arnaud raises his head. Then noiselessly he slides out of bed on the +chill wooden boarding. As in a trance he crosses the room, seizes +charcoal, and feverishly works at the blank canvas on the easel. + +For twenty minutes his hand never falters, then the charcoal drops from +his nerveless fingers! Groping his way with half-closed eyes back to the +bed, he falls again into a heavy, dreamless slumber. + + * * * * * + +The early morning sun chases away the raindrops of the night before. +Signs of activity are abroad in the inn; the swish of brooms; the noisy +clatter of pails. A warm aroma of coffee floats up the stairs and under +the door of number fourteen, awaking Arnaud to pleasant thoughts of +breakfast. He is partly dressed before his eye lights on the canvas he +had prepared. + +"_Nom de Dieu!_" + +He falls back against the wall, staring stupefied at the picture before +him. It is the picture of a girl, crouching in a kneeling position, all +the agony of death showing clearly in her upturned eyes. At her throat, +cruelly, relentlessly doing their murderous work, are a pair of +hands--ugly, podgy hands, but with what power behind them! + +The face is the face of Jehane--a distorted, terrified Jehane! Arnaud +recoils, covering his eyes with his hands. Who could have drawn this +unspeakable thing? He looks again closely; the style is his own! There +is no mistaking those bold, black lines, that peculiar way of indicating +muscle beneath the tightly stretched skin--it _is_ his own work! +Anywhere would he have known it! + +A knock at the door! Jean Potin enters, radiating cheerfulness. + +"Breakfast in your room, monsieur? We are busy this morning; I share in +the work. Permit me to move the table and the easel--_Sacre-bleu!_" + +Suddenly his rosy lips grow stern. "This is Jehane. Did she sit for +you--and when? You only came last night. What devil's work is this?" + +"That is what I would like to find out; I know no more about it than you +yourself. When I awoke this morning the picture was there!" + +"Did you draw it?" suspiciously. + +"Yes. At least, no! Yes, I suppose I did. But I----" + +Potin clenches his fist: "I will have the truth from the girl herself! +There is something here I do not like!" Roughly he pushes past the +artist and mounts to Jehane's room. + +She is not there, neither is she at her desk. Nor yet down in the +village. They search everywhere; there is a hue and cry; people rush to +and fro. + +Then suddenly a shout; and a silence, a dreadful silence. + +Something is carried slowly into the "Loup Noir." Something that was +found huddled up in the shadow of the wall that borders the courtyard. +Something with ugly purple patches on the white throat. + +It is Jehane, and she is dead; strangled by a pair of hands that came +from behind. + +The story of the picture is rapidly passed from mouth to mouth. People +look strangely at Lou Arnaud; they remember his loud, strained voice and +threatening gestures on the preceding night. + +Finally he is arrested on the charge of murder. + + * * * * * + +I was the judge, gentlemen, on the occasion of the Arnaud trial. + +The prisoner is questioned about the picture. He knows nothing; can tell +nothing of how it came there. His fellow-artists testify to its being +his work. From them also leaks out the tale of his brother Claude, of +the latter's infatuation and ruin. No need now to explain the quarrel in +the courtyard. The accused has good reason to hate the dead girl. + +The Avocat for the defence does his best. The picture is produced in +court; it creates a sensation. + +If only Lou Arnaud could complete it--could sketch in the owner of those +merciless hands. He is handed the charcoal; again and again he tries--in +vain. + +The hands are not his own; but that is a small point in his favour. Why +should he have incriminated himself by drawing his own hands? But again, +why should he have drawn the picture at all? + +There is nobody else on whom falls a shadow of suspicion. I sum up +impartially. The jury convict on circumstantial evidence, and I sentence +the prisoner to death. + +A short time must elapse between the sentence and carrying it into +force. The Avocat for the defence obtains for the prisoner a slight +concession; he may have picture and charcoal in his cell. Perhaps he can +yet free himself from the web which has inmeshed him! + +Arnaud tries to blot out thought by sketching in and erasing again +fanciful figures twisted into a peculiar position; he cannot adjust the +pose of the unknown murderer. So in despair he gives it up. + +One morning, three days before the execution, the innkeeper comes to +visit him and finds him lying face downwards on the narrow pallet. +Despite his own grief, he is sorry for the young man; nor is he +convinced in his shrewd bourgeois mind of the latter's guilt. + +"You _must_ draw in the second figure," he repeats again and again. "It +is your last, your only chance! Think of the faces you saw at the 'Loup +Noir.' Do none of them recall anything to you? You quarrelled with +Jehane in the garden about your brother. Then you went to your room. Oh, +what did you think in your room?" + +"I thought of your niece," responds Arnaud wildly. "How very beautiful +she was, and what a model she would make. Then I prepared a blank +canvas for the morning, and went to bed. When I woke up the picture was +there." + +"And you remember nothing more--nothing at all?" insists Jean Potin. +"You fell asleep at once? You heard no sound?" + +Against the barred window of the cell the rain patters softly. A distant +clock booms out eleven strokes. + +Something in the artist's brain seems to snap. He raises his head. He +slides from the bed. As in a trance he crosses the cell, seizes a piece +of charcoal, and feverishly works at the picture on the easel! + +Not daring to speak, Jean Potin watches him. The figure behind the hands +grows and grows beneath Arnaud's fingers. + +A woman's figure! + +Then the face: a coarse, malignant face, distorted by evil passions. + +"Ah!" + +It is a cry of recognition from the breathless innkeeper. It breaks the +spell. The charcoal drops, and the prisoner, passing his hand across his +eyes, gazes bewildered at his own work. + +"Who? What?" + +"But I know her! It is the woman in whose room you slept! She was +staying at the 'Loup Noir' the very night before you arrived, and she +left that morning. She and her husband, Monsieur Guillaumet. But it is +incredible if _she_ should have----" + +I will be short with you, gentlemen. Madame Guillaumet was traced to her +flat in Paris. Arnaud's Avocat confronted her with the now completed +picture. She was confounded--babbled like a mad woman--confessed! + +A reprieve for further inquiry was granted by the State. Finally Arnaud +was cleared, and allowed to go free. + +The motive for the murder? A woman's jealousy. Monsieur and Madame +Guillaumet had been married only ten months. Her age was forty-nine; his +twenty-seven. Every second of their married life was to her weighted +with intolerable suspicions; how soon would this young husband, so dear +to her, forsake her for another, now that his debts were paid? It preyed +upon her mind, distorting it, unbalancing it; each glance, each movement +of his she exaggerated into an intrigue. + +On their way to Paris they stayed a few days at the "Loup Noir"; Charles +Guillaumet was interested in racing. Also, he became interested in a +certain Mdlle. Jehane. Madame, quick to see, insisted on an instant +departure. + +The evening of the day of their departure she missed her husband, and +found he had taken the car. Where should he have gone? Back to the inn, +of course, only half-an-hour's run from Paris. She hired another car and +followed him, driving it herself. It was not a pleasant journey. The +first car she discovered forsaken, about half-a-mile distant from the +inn. Her own car she left beside it, and trudged the remaining distance +on foot. + +The rest was easy. + +Finding no sign of Guillaumet in front of the house, she stole round to +the back. There she found a door in the wall of the courtyard--a door +that led into the lane. That door was slightly ajar. She slipped in and +crouched down in the shadow. + +Yes, there they were, her husband and Jehane; the latter was laughing, +luring him on--and she was young; oh, so young! + +The woman watched, fascinated. + +Charles bade Jehane good-bye, promising to come again. He kissed her +tenderly, passed through the gate; his steps were heard muffled along +the lane. + +Jehane blew him a kiss, and then fastened the little door. + +A distant clock boomed out eleven strokes, and a pair of hands stole +round the girl's throat, burying themselves deep, deep in the white +flesh. + + * * * * * + +"And the husband, was he an accessory after the fact?" inquired the Boy. + +"Possibly he guessed at the deed, yes; but, being a weakling, said +nothing for fear of implicating himself. It wasn't proved." + +The Host moved uneasily in his chair. + +"Do you mean to tell me that the mystery of the picture has never been +cleared up?" he asked. "Could Arnaud have actually seen the murder from +his window, and fixed it on the canvas?" + +The little French Judge shook his head. + +"Did I not tell you that his window faced front?" he replied. "No, that +point has not yet been explained. It is beyond us!" + +He made a sweeping gesture, knocking over his liqueur glass; it fell +with a crash on the parquet floor. + +The Bore woke with a start. + +"And did they marry?" he queried. + +"Who should marry?" + +"That artist-chap and the girl--what was her name?--Jehane." + +"Monsieur," quoth the little French Judge very gently and ironically, "I +grieve to state that was impossible, Jehane being dead." + +The Boy at the corner of the table stood up and threw the stump of his +cigar into the fire. + +"I think Spiritualism is all rot!" he declared. + + + + + MILLER, SON, & COMPY., LIMITED, + PRINTERS, + FAKENHAM AND LONDON. + + + + +SOME NOTABLE SIXPENNY BOOKS + +To be had of all Booksellers, or post free (Inland) 8d. each; four +volumes for 2s. 5d., or six for 3s. 6d. from THE PUBLISHER, 17, +Henrietta Street, London, W.C. + + +THE MYSTERIES OF MODERN LONDON. + + By GEORGE R. SIMS, + _Author of "The Devil in London," &c._ + + "Full of fascinating interest and romance. 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A list of the notorious + champions Mace met and vanquished would fill many pages, but he has + here set on record the romance of as wonderful a life as was ever + lived. + + +CONFESSIONS OF A POACHER + + By J. CONNELL. + _With Illustrations by S. T. DADD._ + + _Field_: "The book is very remarkable, instructive in its + disclosures of the dubious ways of poachers, and an intending reader + cannot but be interested and amused." + + + + +_BOOKS TO MAKE US MERRY_ + +PRICE 1/- each net. (Postage, 3d. extra.) + +_In stiff pictorial paper boards._ + + +THE AMUSEMENT SERIES. + +AFTER-DINNER SLEIGHTS. By LANG NEIL. With many Photographs, showing +tricks in actual operation. + +CARD TRICKS WITHOUT SLEIGHT OF HAND OR APPARATUS. By L. WIDDOP. +Illustrated. + +CONJURING WITH COINS. Including Tricks by NELSON DOWNS and other Eminent +Performers. Fully Illustrated with Photographs and Diagrams. + +FUN ON THE BILLIARD TABLE. A Collection of 75 Amusing Tricks. By +STANCLIFFE. With Photographs. + +HAND SHADOWS. The Complete Art of Shadowgraphy. By LOUIS NIKOLA. Fully +Illustrated. + +INDOOR GAMES FOR CHILDREN AND YOUNG PEOPLE. Edited by E. M. BAKER. +Illustrated. + +MODERN CARD MANIPULATION. By C. LANG NEIL. Enlarged Edition. With many +Photographs, showing Tricks in operation. + +THE NEW BOOK OF PUZZLES. Up-to-date and original. By A. CYRIL PEARSON. +With upwards of 100 Illustrations. + +THE PEARSON PUZZLE BOOK. A Collection of over 100 of the Best Puzzles. +Edited by J. K. BENSON. + +PEARSON'S BOOK OF FUN, MIRTH AND MYSTERY. Edited by Mr. X. + +PEARSON'S HUMOROUS RECITER AND READER. + +PLAYS FOR AMATEUR ACTORS. Containing Nine Original Plays. Six for +Adults, two for Children, and one for Scouts. + +PLAYS AND DISPLAYS FOR SCOUT ENTERTAINMENTS. This volume contains six +long plays, also several shorter plays, and recitations. + +PRACTICE STROKES AT BILLIARDS. For Tables of all Sizes. From the Match +Play of John Roberts and other leading players. + +RECITATIONS FOR CHILDREN. Selected by JEAN BELFRAGE. With Three Original +Plays for Children. + +SIMPLE CONJURING TRICKS THAT ANYBODY CAN PERFORM. By WILL GOLDSTON. + +TRICKS FOR EVERYONE. By DAVID DEVANT. Illustrated with 134 Photographs. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Uncanny Tales, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNCANNY TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 26606.txt or 26606.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/6/0/26606/ + +Produced by David Clarke, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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